UC-NRLF 


SEVENTEEN  YEARS  IN 
THE  UNDERWORLD 


BY 

WELLINGTON  SCOTT 


INTRODUCTION  BY 

LYNN  HAROLD  HOUGH 


THE   ABINGDON   PRESS 
NEW  YORK  CINCINNATI 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
WELLINGTON  SCOTT 


CONTENTS 


I 

II 

III 

IV 

V 

VI 

VII 

VIII 

IX 

X 

XI 

XII 

XIII 

XIV 

XV 

XVI 

XVII 

XVIII 

XIX 

XX 

XXI 

XXII 

XXIII 


INTRODUCTION    .... 
EARLY  LIFE     .... 
BEGINNING  A  CAREER 
PERSISTING  IN  MISDEEDS 
EFFECTS  OF  GAMBLING    . 
THE  REFORM  SCHOOL    . 
ESCAPE  AND  RECAPTURE  . 

DISCIPLINE 

LIFE  IN  PRISON      ,     .    . 
PRISON  EXPERIENCES 


PACK 

5 
11 
16 

27 
30 
36 
41 
47 
49 


CRIMINAL  CLASSES 57 

SOME  TYPES  OF  CROOKS     ....  61 

MORALS  IN  THE  UNDERWORLD  ...  66 

SYSTEMATIC  LAWLESSNESS      ...  69 

BETRAYAL  AND  ARREST 74 

PECULIARITIES  OF  "¥EGGS"   ...  79 

CONCERNING  PRISON  MANAGEMENT  .  83 

MISTAKES  OF  A  CHAPLAIN      ...  86 

CONTRACT  LABOR 89 

PARDONED  .  ,.    ...  •  .    ,    .    ...  99 

DIFFICULTIES  OF  THE  EX-PRISONER  .  104 

REFORMATION 109 

COMPARISONS 112 

A  PLEA  FOR  DISCHARGED  PRISONERS  117 


M8334.15 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  two  of  us  were  sitting  in  a  large  park 
in  an  Eastern  city,  one  beautiful  summer 
evening.  As  the  rich  afterglow  of  the  sun- 
set turned  to  twilight  and  then  to  dark,  my 
friend  began  to  talk  about  the  old  furtive 
days  in  the  underworld.  He  told  me  how 
in  many  an  American  city  he  had  stood 
before  some  house  of  an  evening  when  the 
shades  were  not  drawn.  Within  he  would 
see  the  father  and  the  mother,  and  the  happy 
little  children,  and  all  the  bright  light  of 
home.  He  would  turn  away  abruptly  and 
walk  into  the  dark,  trying  to  forget  it.  He 
could  never  have  a  home  like  that. 

Somehow  there  flashed  upon  me  that 
night  such  an  intimate  sense  of  the  tragic 
loneliness  which  a  man  can  know  in  the 
underworld  as  I  had  never  felt  before. 

Two  years  later  I  stood  in  the  home  of 
this  same  friend  who  for  so  many  years  had 

5 


6  INTRODUCTION 

been  a  social  outlaw.  He  had  fought  his 
battle  and  won.  He  was  happily  married, 
and  his  wife  and  he  together  were  meeting 
life  with  quiet  strength  and  courage.  A  little 
girl  had  come  to  them.  I  held  this  tiny  baby 
in  my  arms  as  I  pronounced  the  great  old 
words,  "I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost."  A  great  light  was  in  the  eyes  of 
the  father,  and  the  mother's  eyes  shone  with 
the  same  gladness.  The  furtive  man  who 
had  walked  away  in  the  dark  trying  to  forget 
the  sight  of  a  happy  home  was  replaced  by 
a  strong,  capable  citizen,  a  proud  father, 
in  a  happy  home. 

I  first  met  this  friend  of  mine — Welling- 
ton Scott  he  calls  himself  in  this  narrative — 
in  a  certain  State  penitentiary.  It  was  in  the 
old  days  when  stripes  were  still  in  evidence, 
and  with  the  prison  pallor  on  his  face,  and 
clad  in  the  uniform  of  the  institution,  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  fact  that  he  was  under 
sentence.  But  even  then  there  was  some- 
thing incongruous  about  it  all.  The  power- 
fully built  frame  did  suggest  deeds  which 


INTRODUCTION  7 

required  strength  and  daring,  but  the  face, 
ready  to  light  up  with  friendliness  and 
kindly  humor,  the  eyes  ready  to  brighten  with 
hearty  good  comradeship,  the  whole  bearing, 
despite  a  certain  embarrassment  at  meeting 
a  stranger  at  that  place  and  under  those 
conditions,  suggested  a  man  who  might 
make  a  great  deal  of  life,  and  who  might 
mean  much  to  his  friends.  As  an  old  pal 
of  his  in  the  underworld  said  to  me  at  a 
later  time,  "It  never  seemed  that  Wellington 
Scott  belonged  there/' 

It  did  not  take  us  long  to  become  friends. 
We  looked  each  other  in  the  eye.  There 
were  a  few  words  of  straight,  honest  talk, 
and  we  had  found  each  other.  After  that 
day  I  kept  in  close  touch  with  him. 

I  watched  his  fight  for  a  straight  life 
when  he  came  from  the  institution  where  he 
was  confined.  I  came  to  know  him  with  an 
increasing  understanding.  He  had  hard 
things  to  meet.  He  felt  the  tug  of  the 
undertow  of  the  old  life.  But  he  held  to 
his  new  purpose. 

His  unusual  powers  of  observation,  his 


8  INTRODUCTION 

capacity  for  thought,  and  his  gift  of  expres- 
sion made  the  following  narrative  of  absorb- 
ing interest.  The  reader  will  come  to  have 
a  new  understanding  of  the  forces  which 
drag  boys  down,  and  of  the  underworld 
which  waits  for  them  with  wide-open  doors. 
He  will  understand  better  how  to  deal  with 
the  boys  in  his  own  home,  his  own  Sunday 
school,  and  his  own  community,  when  he 
has  read  this  revealing  document.  The 
whole  problem  of  the  prison  and  prison 
reform  will  appear  in  a  new  light.  And  the 
reader  will  come  to  think  of  the  prisoner, 
not  as  a  wastrel,  but  as  a  man  who  has  lost 
his  way. 

The  iron  entered  into  the  soul  of  the  man 
who  wrote  this  little  book,  and  sometimes 
the  intensity  of  his  feeling  is  felt  in  his  writ- 
ing. Do  some  of  his  terrible  memories  make 
him  "see  red,"  and  ought  some  of  his  vigor- 
ous statements  to  be  taken  with  a  grain  of 
salt?  I  do  not  think  that  those  familiar  with 
prison  conditions  under  the  old  regime  will 
be  inclined  to  that  opinion.  Donald 
Lowrie's  My  Life  in  Prison  may  well  be 


INTRODUCTION  9 

read  by  the  man  who  thinks  that  this  is  an 
overdrawn  picture.  That  striking  volume 
Within  Prison  Walls,  by  Thomas  Mott 
Osborne,  blazes  with  an  ethical  indignation 
much  stronger  than  any  which  finds  expres- 
sion in  this  book.  That  Wellington  Scott 
is  entirely  sincere,  that  he  is  level-headed  and 
not  inclined  to  extreme  views,  and  that  he 
believes  he  has  given  a  fair  account  of  con- 
ditions, I  know.  I  am  ready  to  vouch  for 
this  narrative,  not  as  the  report  of  a 
judicial  commission,  but  as  a  sincere  and 
revealing  document,  in  which,  with  the 
endeavor  to  be  both  candid  and  fair,  the 
author  gives  us  many  significant  chapters 
from  his  life.  When  the  judicial  appraisal 
of  the  old  regime  in  prisons  comes  in,  it 
will  be  a  more  terrible  arraignment  than 
this  book  by  Wellington  Scott. 

The  crook  is  waiting  for  a  friend.  He 
has  amazing  capacity  for  loyalty.  No  man 
in  the  world  is  more  appreciative  of  genuine 
friendship.  The  ways  to  prevent  men  from 
returning  to  prison  are  many.  One  of  the 
most  important  is  by  providing  every  man 


10  INTRODUCTION 

who  comes  out  of  prison  with  a  friend — 
human,  red-blooded,  hearty  in  all  his  rela- 
tions, ready  to  enter  into  the  life  and  see  out 
of  the  eyes  of  the  man  who  has  come  forth 
to  try  his  fortune  in  a  none  too  friendly 
world. 

At  this  point  the  doubter  and  the  cynic 
may  lift  their  voices.  How  do  I  know  that 
the  men  will  respond  to  friendship?  The 
answer  is  ready.  I  know  because  I  have 
seen  the  response.  That,  however,  is  an- 
other story.  Some  day  I  may  try  to  tell  it. 
Now  it  is  time  for  Wellington  Scott  to 
speak  for  himself. 

LYNN  HAROLD  HOUGH. 


CHAPTER  I 
EARLY  LIFE 

I  WAS  born  thirty-three  years  ago  in  one 
of  the  small  cities  of  an  Eastern  State.  The 
family  from  which  I  came  was  well  thought 
of,  and  what  it  lacked  in  the  possession  of 
money  it  made  up  in  respectability.  My  life 
up  to  the  fifteenth  year  was  that  of  the 
usual  boy.  I  believe  I  was  a  little  more 
studious  than  the  average  youngster,  spend- 
ing much  time  and  finding  not  a  little 
pleasure  in  fitting  myself  for  a  future 
career.  I  stood  well  in  school,  being  at  that 
time  one  year  from  high  school. 

My  mother  died  when  I  was  about  six 
years  of  age,  leaving  the  care  of  nine  children 
to  my  eldest  sister.  My  father,  a  wage- 
earner,  did  not  remarry.  The  home  atmos- 
phere was  all  that  it  could  be,  no  bickering 
or  quarrels  ever  marring  the  quiet  of  the 
house. 

11 


12          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

My  father  for  as  long  as  I  can  remember 
had  been  nearsighted.  Whether  it  was  hered- 
itary or  not,  I  too  soon  developed  that  con- 
dition of  the  eyes.  I  have  always  been 
supersensitive  about  that  defect  in  my  vision, 
and  at  the  time  did  all  that  I  could  to  prevent 
the  fact  becoming  known  at  home.  This 
defect  of  vision  I  shall  dwell  on  at  more 
length  hereafter,  as  I  believe  it  to  have  been 
one  of  the  contributory  causes  of  my  enter- 
ing the  underworld. 

The  neighborhood  in  which  I  lived  up  to 
about  my  fifteenth  year  was  just  that  kind 
one  would  expect  to  find  around  the  home 
of  the  prosperous  workingman.  About  this 
time  in  my  life,  however,  an  undesirable  class 
of  people  began  coming  in,  and  the  older 
neighbors  began  seeking  new  homes.  My 
family  followed  the  exodus  and  moved  into 
one  of  the  established  suburbs  of  the  city. 
I  shall  call  the  place  Rosedale.  Rosedale 
was  like  unto  a  strange  town  to  me,  and  I 
found  it  lonesome.  I  was  a  youngster  then, 
craving  companionship.  I  had  left  all  of  my 
boyhood  friends  five  miles  away  in  the  city 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       13 

below.  I  knew  no  one,  and  I  needed  the 
fellowship  of  a  youngster  of  my  own  age. 
Whatever  sports  I  entered  into  I  entered 
as  a  stranger.  I  went  to  school  and  missed 
sadly  the  presence  of  my  mates  of  the  city. 
I  was  diffident  to  an  extreme,  and  to  make 
matters  worse  my  father  decided  at  this  time 
that  I  should  wear  eyeglasses.  That  was 
before  the  time  when  glasses  became  popu- 
lar, you  must  remember.  I  hated  the  thought 
of  putting  them  on.  I  feared  the  derision 
of  the  boys  with  whom  I  must  associate.  I 
felt  them  a  drawback  in  my  search  for  com- 
panionship. 

How  well  I  remember  the  day  I  first  put 
them  on!  I  went  to  school,  and  the  jibes  of 
the  boys  and  the  half -concealed  smiles  of 
the  girls  made  life  miserable  for  me.  The 
poison  of  melancholy  crept  into  my  heart. 
I  would  not  have  any  of  their  proffered 
friendships,  and  the  rancor  in  my  heart  kept 
me  alien  from  their  fellowships.  I  drew 
myself,  as  it  were,  into  a  shell.  I  made  a 
pal  out  of  solitude  and  out  of  silence.  I 
suckled  the  poison  of  discontent.  Can  you 


14          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

imagine  the  life  of  a  boy  like  that?  The 
life  of  a  lad  is  incomplete  when  it  lacks  the 
joys  and  pleasures  found  in  companionship 
with  other  boys.  These  are  a  necessary  part 
of  his  life,  essential  to  his  well-being  and 
vitally  important  in  the  formation  of  a  good 
character. 

About  four  squares  distant  from  my 
house  there  stood  a  car  barn.  Opposite  this 
car  barn  was  a  pool  room,  where,  for  two 
and  a  half  cents  a  cue,  one  could  knock 
around  the  balls  to  his  heart's  content.  To 
this  pool  room  my  steps  gravitated.  I  re- 
member the  first  time  I  entered.  It  was 
an  evening  of  the  middle  winter;  the  cold 
was  bitter  and  a  cold  sleet  driving  down 
from  the  northwest  made  life  miserable  on 
the  outside.  I  hesitated  a  while  before  enter- 
ing, then,  summoning  up  my  courage,  I 
went  in.  My!  but  it  felt  good.  A  hot 
stove  showed  red  in  the  background,  the 
odor  of  tobacco  smoke  struck  strong  upon 
my  nostrils,  but,  above  all,  the  good-natured 
chaff  and  jokes  of  those  at  play.  This  I 
thought  was  fellowship  of  the  highest  order. 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       15 

No  one  gave  me  more  than  a  passing  glance 
as  I  entered,  except  the  proprietor,  who  was 
all  smiles.  He  wished  me  a  pleasant  even- 
ing, mentioned  something  about  the  weather 
and  went  on  about  his  work.  I  soon  was 
made  to  feel  at  home,  and  some  minutes  later 
found  myself  busily  engaged  at  my  first 
game  of  pool.  That  pool  room  soon  became 
the  Mecca  of  all  of  my  goings  out.  Initia- 
tions into  the  mysteries  of  crap,  poker,  and 
other  games  of  a  strictly  gambling  character 
soon  followed.  Before  long  I  had  acquired 
a  passion  for  gambling  that  knew  no  limit. 
A  year  passed  in  this  environment  gave  me 
pals  a  plenty.  These  friendships,  irre- 
trievably given,  led  into  the  complex 
shadows  of  the  underworld. 


CHAPTER  II 
BEGINNING  A  CAREER 

I  DO  not  remember  my  very  first  act  de- 
noting criminal  tendencies.  The  act  which 
first  brought  me  into  the  clutches  of  the  law 
must  have  been  the  culmination  of  a  passion 
nurtured  by  similar  acts,  but  on  a  much 
smaller  scale.  A  weakening  of  the  will 
power,  perhaps,  by  the  pool-room  environ- 
ment of  twelve  months  or  so,  was  back  of  it 
all.  Preceding  the  act  which  brought  about 
my  arrest  I  know  I  committed  many  other 
acts  of  petty  thievery.  Like  yesterday  that 
arrest  comes  back  to  me.  Imagine  a  depart- 
ment store  at  the  holiday  season;  throngs 
of  shoppers  crowded  here  and  there;  sales- 
people busy  with  fussy  customers;  floor- 
walkers watching  for  crooks.  There  by  the 
jewelry  counter  two  boys  in  their  teens  stand 
watching  and  waiting,  a  small  hand  reaches 

16 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       17 

out  to  a  case  of  rings,  nervous  fingers  lift 
a  "sparkle"  from  its  velvet  bed,  two  boys 
turn  from  the  counter  and  follow  the  crowd 
into  the  street  outside. 

Many  an  anxious  hour  followed  the  com- 
mission of  that  first  big  act.  A  thousand 
times  I  wished  that  ring  back  in  the  store. 
I  saw  a  detective  in  every  face,  a  prison  in 
every  dream.  Back  to  the  pool  room  we 
went  with  our  prize.  It  was  soon  disposed 
of.  At  the  price  for  which  we  sold  it  we 
could  have  sold  a  million. 

One  night,  about  a  week  after  this  event 
in  my  life,  I  was  called  to  the  door  of  my 
house.  I  found  a  stranger  who  asked  if  I 
were  a  certain  party.  I  answered  in  the 
affirmative.  Straightway  he  proceeded  to 
tell  me  that  I  was  under  arrest.  Of  course 
this  was  what  I  had  all  along  been  expect- 
ing, and  so  it  wasn't  very  surprising.  It 
was  the  culmination  of  my  fears,  and  I  was 
sort  of  dead  to  any  emotion.  This  detective 
was  good  to  me.  He  was  a  great  big  fellow 
with  a  pretty  good  heart. 

Next  morning  at  the  station  house  the  firm 


18  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

was  inclined  to  treat  me  leniently.  The  ring 
had  been  recovered,  and  on  the  promise  of 
my  father  to  look  after  me,  and  on  my  own 
promise  to  behave  in  the  future,  the  judge 
dismissed  the  case. 

I  soon  found  the  old  environment  calling 
me  in  tones  which  I  could  not  resist.  I 
slipped  back  again  to  the  old  pals  and  com- 
panionships. The  ice  was  broken.  I  found 
each  succeeding  act  against  the  law  much 
easier  of  commission,  until  the  habit  became 
formed.  Crime  to  the  professional  thief  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  habit.  That  is 
why  the  reforming  of  such  is  so  difficult. 
I  lost  all  sight  of  the  morals.  The  right  or 
wrong  of  an  act  never  enters  into  the  mind 
of  a  criminal.  His  senses  in  this  respect  have 
become  atrophied.  Each  act  is  a  business 
proposition,  considered  from  a  business 
^standpoint,  and  measured  only  by  dollars 
and  cents,  and  the  opportunity  for  a  clean 
"getaway." 

I  did  not  confine  myself  to  shoplifting. 
I  soon  graduated  from  this  class  into  some- 
thing bigger.  I  remembered  the  teachings 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       19 

of  school  days,  the  copybooks  wherein  were 
facsimiles  of  checks,  promissory  notes,  etc. 
I  soon  put  this  learning  into  criminal 
practice. 

Suggestion,  while  perhaps  not  a  direct 
contributory  cause  of  crime,  is  nevertheless 
so  intricately  interwoven  with  the  big  causa- 
tive agencies  that  it  is  mighty  difficult  to  say 
what  part  it  does  play  in  the  formation  of 
the  criminal.  That  it  plays  a  big  part  there 
is  no  gainsaying.  A  mind  lacking  will 
power  is  like  a  sheep — ever  willing  to  follow 
a  leader.  If  that  mind  possesses  criminal 
tendencies,  a  method  of  crime  is  easily  sug- 
gested by  simply  reading  of  other  crimes. 
I  know  not  whether  it  is  pertinent  to  the 
query  or  not,  but  one  of  the  big  facts  about 
the  men  in  the  underworld  is  that  nearly  all 
are  inveterate  readers  of  the  daily  press. 

Whatever  part  suggestion  may  have 
played  in  the  lives  of  other  men  in  the  under- 
world, it  was  a  potent  factor  in  one  of  the 
crimes  of  my  early  career.  The  proprietor 
of  the  pool  room  which  we  made  our 
rendezvous  had  a  relative  who  suddenly 


20          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

died.  Wishing  to  show  his  affection  for  the 
departed,  he  sent  me  to  purchase  a  floral 
piece.  Being  short  of  change,  he  wrote  a 
check  for  ten  dollars  and  bade  me  give  it  in 
exchange  for  the  wreath.  From  this  inci- 
dent in  the  life  of  legitimate  business  was 
suggested  an  illegitimate  use  of  the  same 
idea.  Why  could  I  not  do  the  same  thing? 
I  reasoned.  The  more  I  thought  of  it,  the 
more  certain  I  became  of  its  feasibility.  I 
tried  it  out  and  it  succeeded  beyond  all  ex- 
pectations. This  success  hastened  me  on  to 
the  inevitable  day  of  disaster.  All  crooks 
are  possessed  of  a  little  more  than  their  due 
share  of  vanity;  my  success  in  the  new  line 
puffed  up  my  pride  considerably.  I  was 
only  a  kid,  I  reasoned,  doing  a  man's  work 
in  the  underworld.  Of  course  there  was  no 
big  money  involved,  but  the  money  there 
was  looked  awfully  big  to  me. 


CHAPTER  III 
PERSISTING  IN  MISDEEDS 

EVERY  lane,  the  philosopher  will  tell  you, 
has  an  ending.  Mine  stopped  abruptly.  A 
check  of  mine  was  returned  to  the  one  who 
supposed  me  a  Carnegie.  Having  a  good 
description  of  me,  he  lost  no  time  in  notify- 
ing the  police.  Some  ten  weeks  later,  I 
walked  into  the  arms  of  a  waiting  policeman. 
I  knew  him  well  as  an  old  friend  of  the 
family,  and  besought  him  for  their  sakes  to 
let  me  go.  He  couldn't  see  it  that  way.  Of 
course  he  was  sorry  for  me,  and  all  that,  but 
he  had  a  duty  to  perform.  I  put  on  as  bold 
a  front  as  I  could  as  he  led  me  to  the  nearest 
patrol  box.  My  impressions  of  that  ride  in 
the  wagon  are  indistinct  in  my  memory.  I 
do  remember,  however,  the  sensation  of 
weight  that  seemed  to  overwhelm  me  as  I 
entered  for  the  second  time  the  station 

21 


22  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

house.  I  was  held  for  trial  and  committed 
to  jail  until  tried. 

It  was  early  summer  and  the  courts  had 
adjourned  to  meet  again  three  months 
hence.  That  time  I  must  spend  in  jail,  un- 
less it  were  my  pleasure  to  plead  guilty  or 
unless  I  could  arrange  for  bail.  The  latter 
was  out  of  the  question;  bail  could  not  be 
had.  Friends  of  the  family  were  unwilling 
to  take  the  chance.  Upon  entering  jail  my 
mind  was  made  up  to  take  my  punishment 
at  once  and  have  it  over  with,  but  in  jail  I 
met  men  older  and  abler  in  crime  than  I  was, 
whose  advice  to  me  was  to  demand  a  jury 
and  take  a  chance.  They  reasoned  with  me 
that  I  had  everything  to  gain  and  nothing 
to  lose  by  the  experiment.  I,  of  course,  took 
their  advice. 

A  trial  by  jury  gives  a  pretty  good  chance 
to  the  crook.  It  takes  mighty  strong  evi- 
dence, and  it  has  to  be  very  conclusive  to 
send  a  man  away  for  a  term  of  years,  and 
the  crook  knows  it.  The  worst  that  he's  got 
is  an  even  break,  no  matter  what  the  evi- 
dence. If  there's  a  real  discrepancy  in 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       23 

the  testimony  of  the  witnesses,  a  minor  mis- 
take in  the  identification,  it  is  a  ten  to  one 
chance  in  his  favor.  The  crook,  above  all, 
knows  men,  knows  how  difficult  it  is  to  get 
twelve  men  to  agree  on  anything  under  the 
sun,  and,  other  things  being  equal,  is  more 
than  willing  to  stack  his  liberty  on  the 
chance.  In  all  my  experience  in  the  under- 
world I  know  of  no  man  wrongfully  con- 
victed. On  the  other  hand,  I  know  of  at 
least  a  hundred  cases  where  the  guilty  have 
been  acquitted. 

Of  course  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  my 
experience  has  been  the  rule,  but  I  am  giving 
it  for  what  it  is  worth.  I  myself  was  once 
tried  for  an  act  which  I  knew  absolutely 
nothing  about.  The  evidence  against  me 
seemed  conclusive,  my  pals  had  all  bidden 
me  good-by,  and  I  myself  had  given  up 
hope.  I  was  without  money  to  employ  first- 
class  counsel.  The  State  was  represented 
by  an  attorney  able  in  criminal  prosecution, 
and  this  made  my  chances  look  slim  indeed. 
I  had  no  witnesses  to  speak  in  my  favor. 
I  went  on  the  stand  and  told  my  story;  I 


24          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

testified  as  only  truth  can  testify,  and  the 
jury  acquitted  me.  My  pals  of  the  under- 
world called  me  a  lucky  dog.  Was  I  lucky? 
Was  luck  the  dominant  factor  in  that  ac- 
quittal? It  may  have  been,  but  I  have  never 
believed  it.  I  have  a  conviction,  born  from 
I  know  not  where,  that  the  Providence  that 
guards  the  fool,  the  child,  and  the  drunkard 
also  throws  a  protecting  arm  around  the 
innocent. 

I  entered  jail  an  amateur  in  crime  and 
stayed  there  a  little  over  three  months.  In 
that  time  I  learned  more  of  the  devious 
methods  which  crooks  use  against  society 
than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of  knowing.  What 
a  commentary  upon  justice!  What  respon- 
sibility rests  upon  a  State  which  makes  no 
provision  for  the  separation  of  the  young 
and  old  in  crime! 

I  mingled  daily  with  men  grown  old  in  the 
underworld;  I  assimilated  just  as  much  of 
their  vices  as  my  immature  nature  would 
hold.  I  learned  the  language  of  the  crook. 
The  tales  told  were  strong  with  the  flavor 
of  adventure.  They  fascinated  me  and  I 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       25 

looked  up  to  the  old  crooks  as  men  to  be 
envied.  Boy  that  I  was,  I  knew  nothing  of 
their  hidden  life;  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
years  spent  behind  prison  walls,  nothing  of 
the  misery,  sufferings,  the  heartaches  such 
years  entailed.  Yes,  I  envied  them.  They 
came  to  be  heroes,  as  it  were,  out  of  the 
great  book  of  adventure. 

The  day  of  my  trial  finally  arrived.  I 
took  particular  pains  to  dress  well  for  the 
occasion.  Appearance  weighs  largely  in  the 
prisoner's  favor  before  judge  and  jury.  The 
trial  was  brief,  the  evidence  against  me  con- 
clusive, I  could  offer  none  in  my  favor.  The 
jury  retired,  and  after  over  two  hours  de- 
liberation arrived  at  the  fact  that  I  was 
indeed  guilty.  I  tell  you,  juries  do  some 
strange  things  and  arrive  at  still  stranger 
conclusions.  My  sentence  was  pronounced 
immediately,  and  was  that  I  should  be  con- 
fined in  the  reform  school  until  I  reached 
the  age  of  twenty-one  years. 

As  I  look  back  over  the  years  I  can  see 
clearly  some  of  the  steps  that  led  me  over 
the  line.  Be  it  understood  that  I  am  making 


26          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

no  excuses  for  my  numerous  lapses  of 
morality;  I  shall  merely  endeavor  to  trace 
some  of  the  causes  which  led  me  into  the 
underworld. 


CHAPTER  IV 
EFFECTS  OF  GAMBLING 

I  HAVE  already  mentioned  the  fact  that  I 
am  possessed  of  a  defective  vision.  I  be- 
lieve, and  believe  sincerely,  that  this  defect 
of  vision  is  a  handicap  to  its  possessor  in 
the  legitimate  battle  of  life.  It  was  partly 
responsible  in  my  life  for  my  extreme  diffi- 
dence, a  diffidence  that  became  in  itself  one 
of  the  causes  which  led  me  into  the  environ- 
ment of  the  pool  room.  It  kept  me  away 
from  those  of  good  character,  from  the 
decent  fellowship  of  girls  and  boys  of  my 
own  age.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the 
defect  in  itself  did  all  this,  but  by  reason 
of  it  my  nature  acquired  a  peculiar  tem- 
perament, a  sort  of  aloofness.  I  have  always 
loved  a  crowd.  I  like  the  life  of  a  city  with 
its  busy  folks  and  ceaseless  rush  of  activity. 
I  like  fellowship,  companions  to  talk  to;  I 

27 


28          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

hate  to  be  alone.  In  search  of  these  I  drifted 
to  the  pool  room. 

I  find  this  pool  room  another  step  in  my 
journey  to  the  reform  school.  It  is  my 
experience  that  while  all  gamblers  may  not 
be  crooks,  all  crooks  are  gamblers.  This 
passion  for  gambling  grew  strong  within  me ; 
my  nature  was  a  fertile  field  for  its  propa- 
gation. Many  a  dollar  of  my  ill-gotten 
gains  has  gone  in  a  futile  attempt  to  appease 
its  appetite.  Here  lies  one  of  the  big  causes 
that  drove  me  on.  It  isn't  the  mere  gam- 
bling itself  which  is  so  destructive  to  char- 
acter, it  is  the  lust  for  money,  the  passion 
for  gain  that  gambling  begets,  the  creating 
of  a  "money  want"  which  the  earnings  from 
legitimate  labor  cannot  satisfy ;  this  to  me  is 
the  vital  evil  of  the  passion.  This  "money 
want"  eats  into  the  will  power  of  the  man, 
eventually  breaking  it  down  and  sending 
the  man  to  the  devil. 

I  know  now  that  the  three  months  I  spent 
in  jail  hurried  me  on  to  the  life  I  lived 
eventually.  Some  people  will  say  that  I 
must  have  been  inherently  depraved  any- 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       29 

how,  that  three  months  in  jail  could  have 
little  to  do  with  the  making  of  my  character. 
Of  course  I  do  not  know  what  my  life  would 
have  been  if  I  had  never  entered  the  jail. 
If,  for  instance,  I  had  been  paroled,  or,  if 
some  one  had  reasoned  and  talked  the  thing 
over  with  me,  might  not  the  outcome  have 
been  different? 

It  has  always  appeared  strange  to  me  that 
the  State  should  be  a  party  to  creating  the 
evils  which  it  is  at  the  same  time  trying  to 
prevent.  This  custom  of  herding  young 
boys  suspected  or  guilty  of  crime  with  older 
and  hardened  criminals  is  a  crime  against 
childhood.  At  an  age  when  the  senses  are 
most  receptive  the  boy  should  have  an  en- 
vironment free  from  contaminating  influ- 
ences. If  the  aim  of  the  State  is  to  reform 
and  not  simply  to  punish  him,  the  quicker 
it  separates  the  youthful  criminal  from  the 
older  one,  the  better  its  chances  to  deplete 
the  ranks  of  the  underworld. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  REFORM  SCHOOL 

I  ENTERED  the  reform  school  when  a  few 
months  over  sixteen  years  of  age.  The  fol- 
lowing twenty-eight  months  in  this  institu- 
tion marked  the  crucial  period  of  my  life. 
The  things  that  I  found  in  the  school,  the 
environment,  the  indiscriminate  mixture  of 
the  boys,  regardless  of  their  ages  or  evident 
depravity — all  these  steered  me  toward  the 
rocks  of  a  wretched  career.  I  entered  the 
school  not  altogether  bad,  and  there  was  still 
a  possible  chance  of  making  me  see  the  error 
of  my  way.  I  was  at  the  impressionable 
age,  and  I  believe,  as  I  look  back,  that 
proper  association,  coupled  with  a  correct 
method  of  teaching,  would  have  molded  my 
career  into  a  different  channel.  If  I  had 
found  sympathy  and  understanding  in  the 
teachers,  if  I  had  been  given  the  opportunity 

so 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       31 

of  mixing  with  boys  knowing  less  about 
crime  than  I  did;  if  I  had  found  an  honest 
desire  on  the  part  of  the  teachers  to  bring 
about  reform,  then  my  later  life  might  have 
been  different.  I  found  none  of  these  things. 
There  were  certain  of  the  officials  who  had 
the  qualifications  needed,  but  they  were  of 
minor  importance  in  the  life  of  the  institu- 
tion and  didn't  count. 

The  school  was  situated  in  the  center  of 
the  State,  about  thirty  miles  from  the  scene 
of  my  former  activities.  Consisting  of 
about  a  dozen  buildings,  they  made  an  im- 
pressive sight  as  one  viewed  them  from  their 
front.  There  was  no  wall  about  its  boun- 
daries, nothing  but  the  level  expanse  of 
cultivated  fields. 

It  was  an  afternoon  of  an  early  autumn 
as  I  alighted  from  the  conveyance  which 
had  brought  the  guard  and  me  from  the 
station.  The  first  impression  I  received  on 
viewing  the  collection  of  buildings  was  that 
of  a  student  looking  for  the  first  time  on 
the  school  which  is  to  be  his  Alma  Mater. 
Had  not  the  judge  told  me  that  here  I 


32  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

would  find  friends  and  an  education  to  fit  me 
for  the  later  life?  The  fact  that  I  had  been 
convicted  of  a  criminal  offense  made  no 
difference  in  these  impressions.  I  was  like 
a  curious  student,  anxious  to  know  what 
the  years  would  bring,  and  what  possibilities 
the  institution  held.  I  entered  the  office 
conducted  by  my  guard.  He  removed  my 
shackles  and  I  stood  before  the  head  of  the 
institution.  He  greeted  me  kindly,  gave  me 
some  words  of  advice  and  turned  me  over  to 
one  of  the  clerks. 

Just  a  word  here  about  the  superinten- 
dent: he  was  a  man  nearing,  I  suppose,  his 
sixtieth  year.  He  had  held  his  position  for 
ten  or  twelve  years,  and  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  was  an  ideal  man  for  the  head  of 
such  an  institution.  In  all  my  dealings  with 
him  I  found  him  an  honorable  and  square 
man.  In  after  months  he  used  the  lash  on 
me  several  times,  and  always  because  he 
thought  the  offense  warranted  it,  but  never 
in  a  brutal  manner.  His  great  fault  lay  in 
not  giving  the  institution  his  personal  super- 
vision, as  he  should  have  done.  This  duty 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       33 

he  left  to  the  assistant  superintendent, 
satisfying  the  conscience  of  duty  done  by  an 
occasional  round  of  the  cottages  and  shops. 
Punishments  he  delegated  usually  to  the 
same  assistant  superintendent.  The  law 
said  and  directed,  I  have  since  informed  my- 
self, that  only  the  superintendent  had  this 
power.  This  assistant  superintendent  was 
a  man  of  the  Brockway  type,  a  cold,  cruel 
specimen  of  a  man,  a  martinet  rather  than 
a  disciplinarian.  All  the  wrongs  ever  com- 
plained of  there  were  traceable  to  him — of 
him  more  anon. 

The  institution  was  run  on  the  cottage 
system.  There  were  several  cottages — eight, 
I  believe,  in  all — scattered  about  the 
grounds,  sheltering  a  group  of  from  forty 
to  seventy  boys  in  each.  These  collections 
of  boys  in  groups  were  called  families.  It 
was  the  aim  of  the  officials  so  to  group  the 
inmates  that  each  family  would  include 
boys  of  nearly  the  same  age.  This  method 
was  soon  found  impractical,  and  at  the  time 
I  entered  there  was  as  much  as  eight  years 
difference  in  the  ages  of  the  boys  making  up 


34  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

the  family  to  which  I  was  assigned.  This 
grouping  has  been  one  of  the  vicious  faults 
of  the  reform-school  systems  of  this  country, 
and  still  exists  in  some  of  the  schools  of  the 
present  day. 

I  also  found  that  some  of  the  boys  were 
grouped  regardless  of  type  or  character.  I 
found  dependents,  boys  absolutely  guiltless 
of  crime,  whose  only  fault  lay  in  the  un- 
fortunate fact  that  they  had  lost  their 
parents,  mingling  and  coming  into  daily 
contact  with  boys  of  a  naturally  depraved 
nature.  You  can  imagine  what  five  years  of 
this  association  would  mean  to  such  boys. 
These  are  no  isolated  instances.  In  the 
school  at  the  time  when  I  was  there  I  know 
there  were  at  least  a  hundred  committed 
because  of  lack  of  homes,  and  these  boys, 
through  no  fault  of  their  own,  were  thrown 
by  the  State  into  an  environment  of  de- 
generacy and  crime.  Is  it  surprising  that 
the  majority  chose  the  underworld  for  a 
living? 

I  have  read  a  lot  about  the  percentage  of 
reformations  some  of  the  reform  schools  of 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       35 

this  country  are  making  yearly.  To  be 
frank,  I  doubt  it.  I  very  much  doubt  the 
accuracy  of  the  statistics.  Seventy-five 
per  cent  of  the  professional  crooks  of  the 
country  are  reform-school  graduates.  In 
my  belief  it  is  a  natural  evolution. 


CHAPTER  VI 
ESCAPE  AND   RECAPTURE 

THE  life  of  the  school  for  the  first  six 
months  or  so  was  uneventful.  I  spent  the 
time  in  learning  the  routine,  getting  ac- 
quainted with  the  boys,  etc.  My  first  pun- 
ishment came  when  I  had  been  there  about 
eight  months.  I  had  been  put  to  work  in 
the  kitchen,  working  there  each  morning 
before  school  for  four  hours;  in  the  after- 
noon returning  again  to  work  till  supper  at 
six.  The  kitchen  work  was  supervised  by 
a  woman,  good  and  gentle,  but  inclined  to  be 
supersensitive  about  the  authority  her  posi- 
tion conveyed.  One  morning  I  received  a 
barrel  of  particularly  fine  apples,  a»  I 
supposed,  for  the  usual  kitchen  purposes. 
Having  a  few  pals  to  whom  apples  would 
be  in  the  nature  of  a  treat,  I  selected  a  dozen 
or  so  of  the  largest  and  finest  and  stored 

36 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       37 

them  away.  Imagine  my  state  of  mind  when 
I  found  out  that  the  apples  had  been  shipped 
as  the  special  property  of  the  kitchen  over- 
seer. Of  course  there  was  high  commotion 
over  the  missing  top  layer,  and,  of  course, 
I  denied  that  I  had  seen  the  barrel,  not  to 
speak  of  opening  it  and  abstracting  the 
choicest  dozen.  It  transpired  that  envious 
eyes  other  than  mine  had  seen  me  hide  them, 
the  "stool"  of  the  family,  in  fact,  and  he 
lost  no  time  in  conveying  the  information 
to  the  head.  That  night  I  was  led  gently 
into  the  punishment  room,  and  experienced 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life  the  pain  which 
sodden  leather  coming  into  violent  contact 
with  the  bare  skin  brings.  That  licking  was 
another  step  downward.  I  never  got  over 
the  humiliation  of  that  night.  It  made  me 
revengeful;  I  vowed  I  would  get  even.  I 
knew  I  did  wrong  in  taking  the  apples,  and 
it  was  not  so  much  the  punishment,  it  was 
the  method  by  which  I  was  caught  and  found 
out.  That  system  of  espionage  exists  and  is 
encouraged  by  the  officials  in  every  penal 
institution  I  have  been  in.  It  seems  that  in 


38          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

every  collection  of  individuals,  no  matter 
the  strata,  there  are  always  some  a  little 
more  despicable  and  lower  than  the  rest. 
These  are  termed  "stool  pigeons"  by  the 
men.  I  have  found  them,  without  exception, 
cowards  at  heart  and  with  less  soul  than  a 
corporation. 

Soon  after  receiving  the  punishment  I 
began  laying  my  plans  for  an  escape.  The 
place  had  become  monotonous.  The  routine, 
day  after  day,  was  galling.  I  longed  for 
the  outside  life,  for  just  a  glimpse  of  the 
city.  I  wanted  to  mix  again  with  the  people 
of  the  outside  world.  Daily,  at  frequent 
intervals,  I  heard  the  long  shrill  whistle  of 
a  locomotive.  How  my  heart  used  to  beat 
when  I  heard  it!  I  imagined  the  train  with 
its  cushioned  seats,  and  I  in  one  of  them, 
journeying  to  one  of  the  many  summer 
resorts  for  a  day's  outing.  I  envied  the 
birds  as  they  flew  above  me  in  the  free  air. 
I  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  sight  of  the 
blue  coats  and  visored  officials.  All  of  my 
nature  craved  for  freedom  once  more. 

The  opportunity  came.     In  the  middle 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       39 

of  the  night  my  pal  and  I  tied  the  ends  of 
our  bed  sheets  together  and  noiselessly  slid 
to  the  ground,  fifty  feet  below.  We  walked 
five  miles  to  the  railroad  and  boarded  a 
train  that  took  us  speedily  away  from  our 
former  prison.  It  was  good  to  be  free  again. 
The  stars  shone  like  diamonds  in  what 
seemed  to  me  the  bluest  sky  I  had  ever  seen. 
The  air  was  soft  and  cool  and  the  rattle  of 
the  train  was  like  music  to  our  ears.  We 
were  bound  we  knew  not  where,  contented 
with  the  fact  that  we  were  free.  I  have 
thought  since  then  that  I  can  imagine  the 
feeling  of  a  bird  as  it  rises  wing  on  wing 
in  the  bright  heavens  after  a  cage  life  of 
weary  years. 

Daylight  found  us  in  a  city  by  the  sea 
in  southern  New  Jersey.  I  shall  never  for- 
get my  first  sight  of  the  ocean  on  that 
eventful  morning.  It  was  the  season  of 
summer.  The  atmosphere  was  clear  as 
crystal,  save  for  a  glimmering  haze  in  the 
distance,  above  which  the  morning  sun  was 
now  sending  down  rays  of  golden  color. 
To  the  far  right  an  ocean  liner  was  lazily 


40          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

steaming  along,  the  smoke  from  its  funnels 
darkening  the  cast  of  the  sky  overhead. 
Before  us  a  schooner,  sails  full  set,  rolled 
to  the  swell  of  the  ocean.  The  dull  moan 
of  the  waves  as  they  broke  against  the  sand- 
strewn  beach  seemed  full  of  symphonies. 
Above  all  was  the  silence  of  the  early  morn, 
broken  only  by  the  call  of  the  wayward  gull. 
Since  then  I  have  seen  some  of  the  famous 
scenery  of  the  world,  but  never  have  I  been 
impressed  by  the  beauty  of  nature  as  I  was 
on  that  morning  of  long  ago.  My  contem- 
plation of  the  beautiful  picture  before  me 
was  rudely  interrupted  by  a  slight  noise 
behind  me.  I  turned  and  was  confronted  by 
one  of  the  officials  of  the  school,  his  arms 
outstretched  before  him  in  the  very  act  of 
laying  hands  upon  me.  I  tried  to  dodge,  but 
the  attempt  was  useless.  In  a  minute  he  had 
the  handcuffs  on  me  and  I  was  being  led 
back  again  to  my  prison. 


full  view  of  the  others  and  they  of  him;  he 
saw  them  at  their  games,  but  could  take  no 
part  in  their  pleasures.  For  myself  I  pre- 
ferred the  lockup  to  this. 

In  my  later  days  at  the  school,  when  ex- 
perience had  toughened  and  much  punish- 
ment hardened  me,  I  refused  to  walk,  and 
took  the  licking  instead.  There  came  a  day 
when  they  even  stopped  licking  me. 

That  experience,  following  the  escape, 
pulled  me  down  a  little  lower.  I  began  to 

\ies.  ^fcfflfH^^  and 

there  was  no  covering.  My  outer  clothes 
were  taken  from  me  before  entering.  Can 
you  imagine  the  feelings  of  one  confined  in 
such  a  place? 

Each  morning,  about  eight  o'clock,  the 
officer  of  the  family  unlocked  the  door,  a 
boy  placed  a  piece  of  bread  about  the  size 
of  a  half  a  loaf  and  a  cup  of  water  inside 

41 


42  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

the  door,  emptied  the  excretion  of  the  night, 
and  another  day  began.  In  this  place  I 
spent  the  next  eighteen  days.  In  all  that 
time  I  was  denied  the  privilege  of  exercising, 
of  seon&lh^&i&d^^ 
strewn  beach  seemed  full  of  symphonies. 
Above  all  was  the  silence  of  the  early  morn, 
broken  only  by  the  call  of  the  wayward  gull. 
Since  then  I  have  seen  some  of  the  famous 
scenery  of  the  world,  but  never  have  I  been 
impressed  by  the  beauty  of  nature  as  I  was 
on  that  morning  of  long  ago.  My  contem- 
plation of  the  beautiful  picture  before  me 
was  rudely  interrupted  by  a  slight  noise 
behind  me.  I  turned  and  was  confronted  by 
one  of  the  officials  of  the  school,  his  arms 
TTfiaa  a  aunio^iioubiiritx^i^ft^wcr-iTiiat'iii/ 
punishment  was  about  over  with,  but  I  was 
sadly  mistaken.  That  noon  I  was  ordered 
"on  line"  for  thirty  days.  This  "on  line" 
punishment  must  have  been  devised  by  one 
inordinately  brutal.  There  were  certain 
hours  at  the  school  which  were  regarded  as 
recreation  time.  If  one  were  "on  line,"  he 
walked  in  a  circle  about  thirty  feet  in  cir- 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       43 

cumference  during  all  that  period  of  play. 
He  was  supposed  to  let  his  hands  fall  at  his 
side,  face  square  to  the  front,  and  in  absolute 
silence.  Of  course  this  galled  bitterly.  The 
boy  being  punished  by  this  method  was  in 
full  view  of  the  others  and  they  of  him;  he 
saw  them  at  their  games,  but  could  take  no 
part  in  their  pleasures.  For  myself  I  pre- 
ferred the  lockup  to  this. 

In  my  later  days  at  the  school,  when  ex- 
perience had  toughened  and  much  punish- 
ment hardened  me,  I  refused  to  walk,  and 
took  the  licking  instead.  There  came  a  day 
when  they  even  stopped  licking  me. 

That  experience,  following  the  escape, 
pulled  me  down  a  little  lower.  I  began  to 
hate  the  society  which  maintained  such  an 
institution.  I  scoffed  at  the  name  "reform" 
and  resolved  to  escape  again.  I  soon  did 
so,  but  the  law  reached  out  for  me  and 
brought  me  back.  I  tried  again  and  again, 
but  each  time  I  was  returned.  The  fourth 
time  I  managed  to  stay  away  for  three  long 
months.  I  had  a  unique  experience  after 
being  returned  this  fourth  time.  All  the 


44          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

other  times  on  my  return  to  the  institution 
after  escaping,  I  was  subjected  to  the  usual 
punishment.  On  my  return  this  time,  how- 
ever, I  was  brought  immediately  before  the 
head  of  the  institution.  He  spoke  to  me 
kindly  of  the  uselessness  of  such  escapes, 
and  asked  me  to  promise  him  that  I  would 
not  attempt  to  escape  again.  Of  course  I 
promised  him;  I  would  have  promised  any- 
thing that  he  asked;  but  the  promise  was 
worth  nothing.  My  nature  had  commenced 
to  acquire  the  quality  of  hypocrisy  and  I 
had  been  punished  enough  to  lead  me  to 
promise  him  anything. 

He  sent  me  back  to  my  cottage  with  no 
words  of  reproof  or  smart  of  punishment. 
He  thought  to  teach  me  the  right  road  by 
kindness,  to  bring  me  to  my  senses  by  a 
little  sympathy.  But  those  virtues  were  too 
late  coming  into  my  life  at  the  School.  My 
nature  had  fallen  too  low  to  appreciate  to 
the  full  such  acts  on  the  part  of  this  official. 
That  they  made  some  impression  on  me  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  for  the  following  six 
months  I  surprised  the  boys  and  officials 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       45 

alike  by  my  becoming  deportment.  It 
didn't  last:  I  was  soon  deep  in  a  plot  that 
seemed  to  make  my  freedom  assured.  The 
fear  of  physical  suffering  had  no  terrors  for 
me.  The  day  of  the  final  attempt  for  liberty 
came,  and  that  midnight  saw  a  pal  and  me 
trudging  a  lonely  country  path  on  our  way 
to  a  railroad  station  and  the  outside  world. 

Five  miles  from  the  school  is  situated  a 
small  village.  Its  inhabitants  number  about 
three  hundred,  devoted  almost  exclusively  to 
the  manufacture  of  tobacco  sundries.  We 
reached  this  village  with  hearts  aglow  and 
a  song  on  our  lips.  Here  was  the  railroad, 
and  the  railroad  was  to  carry  us  over  the 
line  to  the  joys  of  the  outside  world.  Sud- 
denly from  the  side  of  the  road  came  an 
avalanche  of  rushing  forms.  We  tried  to 
run,  but  were  swept  to  the  ground  by  the 
onslaught.  We  struggled  and  kicked  and 
tore  in  an  endeavor  to  throw  our  captors  off. 
We  were  husky  specimens  of  manhood,  this 
pal  and  I,  and  we  put  up  a  fight,  the  memory 
of  which  will  remain  in  that  village  for  some 
few  years.  They  finally  mastered  us,  and 


46  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

with  pieces  of  hemp  proceeded  to  tie  us  up, 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  school  officials  and 
monetary  reward.  You  see,  for  the  return 
of  every  escaped  boy  the  State  allows  the 
captor  the  sum  of  five  dollars.  In  the 
struggle  between  our  captors  and  ourselves 
one  of  the  former  received  a  severe  cut  on 
the  right  arm,  presumably  done  by  some 
sharp  instrument.  After  lying  twenty-two 
days  in  the  lockup  for  this  last  escapade  I 
was  arrested  by  the  sheriff  of  the  county 
for  this  alleged  atrocious  assault,  as  the  war- 
rant read.  I  can  honestly  say  that  that 
arrest  was  welcomed.  I  didn't  know  who 
had  cut  the  man,  my  pal  or  I,  or  whether  in 
the  scrimmage  he  had  been  cut  by  one  of 
his  own  friends,  but,  anyway,  it  was  an  op- 
portunity to  get  away  from  the  school,  and 
this  certainly  was  welcome. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
LIFE  IN  PRISON 

I  WAS  taken  to  the  county  seat  wherein 
the  assault  took  place,  and  lodged  in  jail. 
My  experiences  in  this  jail  were  similar  to 
my  first  experiences  in  such  a  place.  I 
found  there  the  same  indiscriminate  mixing, 
regardless  of  age.  Of  course  I  was  a  bit 
more  hardened  in  crime  now,  and  I  suppose 
the  environment  didn't  have  the  same  in- 
fluence as  it  had  much  earlier  in  my  career. 

I  was  confined  to  the  jail  for  about  six 
weeks  before  I  appeared  before  the  judge 
and  entered  a  plea  of  non  vult  to  the  indict- 
ment against  me.  This  plea  of  non  vult  is 
a  plea  acknowledging  one's  guilt  but  miti- 
gated by  the  fact  that  the  offender  meant  no 
violation  of  the  law. 

The  judge  was  lenient  with  me,  and  gave 
me  the  lightest  sentence  the  statute  would 
allow — one  year  in  State  prison.  I  received 

47 


48          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

this  sentence  with  a  sincere  satisfaction.  I 
knew  it  meant  the  end  of  the  reform  school 
for  me.  At  the  end  of  the  prison  sentence 
I  was  free  to  go  again  out  into  the  world. 
By  this  time  my  mind  had  formed  by  asso- 
ciation and  environment  a  desire  and  de- 
termination to  live  entirely  in  the  under- 
world. I  would  live  by  my  wits;  I  would 
prey  against  society.  With  this  determina- 
tion I  made  every  endeavor  to  learn  the 
little  tricks  of  the  shadowy  profession.  I 
had  not  decided  into  which  particular  class 
of  the  underworld  I  should  enter.  There 
were  certain  classes  I  could  hope  to  enter 
only  by  a  severe  apprenticeship.  I  left  that 
for  the  time  when  opportunity  should  de- 
cide. However,  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
that  into  some  phase  of  the  life  I  would  put 
all  of  my  being. 

In  this  state  of  mind  I  entered  the  prin- 
cipal prison  of  the  State.  I  was  eager  for 
the  opportunity  to  get  in  contact  with  some 
of  the  big  men.  I  was  confident  of  a  ready 
welcome,  and  expected  the  ten  months  to 
prove  a  valuable  asset  to  my  after  life. 


CHAPTER  IX 
PRISON  EXPERIENCES 

THE  State  prison  at  that  time  was  situ- 
ated in  the  capital  of  the  State.  A  collec- 
tion of  old  and  dilapidated  buildings, 
expressive  of  the  misery  and  the  suffering 
inside,  stood  within  sight  of  the  capitol — a 
contrast  of  two  extremes. 

The  idea  of  the  construction  of  the  build- 
ings was  good.  There  were  four  wings,  each 
converging  into  a  common  center.  From  this 
center  the  guard  could  see  all  that  took 
place  in  the  several  wings.  In  the  center 
were  the  desks  of  the  "P.  K."  and  the  center 
keeper.  The  P.  K.,  so  called  by  the  men, 
had  general  supervision  of  the  entire  prison. 
In  his  hands  was  placed  the  discipline  of  the 
entire  institution.  His  was  the  authority 
to  order  all  punishment,  responsible  only  to 
the  warden. 

At  the  time  when  I  entered  there  were 

49 


50  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

none  of  the  reforms  now  so  common  in  most 
of  the  penal  institutions  of  the  country: 
stripes,  the  lockup,  the  clipped  head,  the 
"contract  system"  were  in  general  vogue. 
There  were  no  privileges  to  speak  of.  The 
prisoner  was  allowed  to  write  but  one  letter 
a  month.  No  newspapers  were  permitted 
to  enter  the  institution.  Pencils  and  writing 
paper  were  absolutely  prohibited  on  pain 
of  severe  punishment.  It  was  like  a  prison, 
one  could  imagine,  that  came  up  from  the 
Dark  Ages  untouched  by  modern  thought 
or  usage. 

The  cells  were  of  brick  covered  with  the 
whitewash  of  many  years.  In  this  whitewash 
much  vermin  had  nesting  places,  and  it  was 
a  continual  battle  between  the  prisoner  and 
the  vermin  from  the  time  the  former  first 
entered  the  cell.  The  cells  were  about  five 
by  seven;  the  furniture  was  meager,  con- 
sisting of  an  iron  cot,  a  corn-husk  mattress 
and  pillow,  a  table  that  folded  against  the 
wall,  and  a  small  wooden  stool.  For  cover- 
ing, the  prisoner  was  given  a  blanket.  There 
were  no  electric  lights  or  toilet  conveniences. 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       51 

Looking  back  over  my  experiences,  I  can 
say  that  the  food  was  on  about  the  average 
served  in  similar  institutions — sometimes 
fair,  occasionally  good,  and  at  other  times 
very  bad.  It  is  an  impossible  task  to  please 
all  the  men  in  such  an  institution,  an  absurd 
endeavor  even  to  try  to  please  them.  Con- 
victs, as  a  rule,  are  chronic  kickers.  Serve 
them  with  ham  and  eggs  for  any  reasonable 
time,  mutterings  of  discontent  would  soon 
follow.  Some  officials  seem  to  know  this, 
and  change  the  diet  of  the  prisoner  fre- 
quently. The  same  food  served  continuously 
soon  becomes  monotonous.  Men  lose  their 
appetite,  discontent  poisons  their  nature, 
melancholy  results,  and  trouble  follows.  If 
a  change  of  food  is  made  at  intervals  of  the 
year,  a  better  discipline  is  procured.  That, 
at  least,  is  my  experience.  If  the  prisoner 
is  satisfied  with  his  food,  a  better  and  more 
wholesome  state  of  mind  results,  and,  natur- 
ally, a  better  discipline  follows. 

The  punishment  as  inflicted  at  this  insti- 
tution was  never  brutal.  During  my  stay 
of  over  ten  months  I  heard  of  no  cuffings- 


52  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

up,  of  no  water  cure,  of  no  severe  whippings, 
and  of  no  manhandlings  by  the  guards. 
Nevertheless,  I  found  there  the  best  disci- 
pline of  any  like  institution  I  was  ever  in. 
As  a  general  rule,  the  guards  were  of  a  little 
higher  caste  than  the  average. 

In  all  such  places  political  or  personal 
pull  amounts  to  a  great  deal.  In  this  respect 
I  found  this  institution  no  exception.  This 
pull  enables  one  to  get  the  "cinch"  positions. 
If  one  is  well  known  and  favorably  thought 
of,  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  reach  the  hospital 
or  to  "beat"  the  contract.  Favoritism  so 
practiced  is  the  bane  of  all  such  institutions. 
It  engenders  the  belief  in  the  convict  that  it 
isn't  the  fact  of  his  crime  that  counts,  but 
its  enormity.  He  sees  the  bank-wrecker, 
convicted  of  misappropriating  the  life  sav- 
ings of  the  poor,  come  to  the  prison  with  a 
paltry  sentence  of  a  few  years.  Though  the 
sum  stolen  reaches  into  the  thousands,  the 
sentence  is  only  a  third  or  a  fourth  of  his 
for  a  much  smaller  crime.  He  sees  the  big 
thief  enjoying  the  run  of  the  institution, 
with  no  contract  work,  or  work  in  some 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       53 

clerical  position.  The  partiality  breeds  dis- 
content and  generates  the  poison  of  society 
hatred  in  the  being  of  the  minor  criminal. 
The  little  crook  tries  to  become  a  big  crook, 
and  in  this  manner  the  ranks  of  the  under- 
world are  further  recruited. 

The  contract  system  in  vogue  at  the  insti- 
tution was  vicious  to  the  extreme.  It  was 
the  cause  of  most  of  the  discontent  found 
there.  It  was  the  source  of  all  the  numerous 
petty  disturbances.  Although  I  know  of 
no  prisoner  being  severely  punished  for  non- 
completion  of  task  assigned,  I  do  know 
of  punishment  inflicted  elsewhere.  Most 
wardens  say,  if  you  ask  them,  that  they  ex- 
pect but  one  half  to  one  fourth  of  an  outside 
man's  output  or  ability.  This  assertion  isn't 
worth  the  time  taken  to  read  it.  I  have 
found  universally  true  in  all  prisons  where 
the  contract  system  is  in  force  that  the 
prisoner  is  expected  and  compelled  to  do 
the  equal  of  an  outside  man's  output,  and  in 
some  cases  more  than  that.  I  shall  dwell 
more  at  length  on  this  phase  of  the  question 
in  my  later  chapters. 


54          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

On  entering  the  institution,  after  bathing, 
having  my  hair  clipped,  and  donning  the 
red-and-white  striped  suit,  I  was  sent  to  the 
receiving  wing.  Here  the  convicts  are  locked 
up  until  assigned  to  work.  Each  morning 
I  was  called  to  the  door  of  my  cell  and  stood 
for  a  close  inspection  of  my  physical  capac- 
ity. My  hands  were  examined  for  strength 
and  pliability.  I  was  made  to  bend  my 
knees  without  touching  hands  to  the  floor. 
My  mouth  was  inspected  and  heart  tested. 
I  was  an  animal  being  offered  for  sale  to 
the  highest  bidder.  My  weight  was  asked 
and  age  investigated.  Everyone  seemed 
satisfied  with  my  physical  condition,  but  they 
failed  to  hire  me  because  of  my  defective 
eyesight.  Old-timers  advised  me  to  "beat 
the  contract,"  to  simulate  a  condition  of  the 
eyes,  worse  than  they  really  were.  I  took 
the  advice  for  what  it  was  worth  and  played 
it  to  the  limit.  None  of  the  contractors 
would  have  me.  The  doctor  examined  me 
thoroughly,  and  found  me  possessed  of  a 
bad  case  of  myopia. 

I  was  assigned  to  State  work  and  did  odd 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       55 

jobs  about  the  institution.  I  soon  tired  of 
this,  however,  and  made  application  to  be 
sent  out  on  contract.  I  was  assigned  to  the 
shoe  contract,  and  began  my  work  there  by 
sewing  buttons  on  women's  shoes. 

All  my  life  I  have  been  restless.  The 
thought  of  staying  at  one  position  for  any 
considerable  time  was  enough  in  itself  to 
make  me  long  for  a  change.  I  played  my 
sight  against  the  position  and  won  out.  I 
was  given  work  at  polishing  the  bottoms  of 
shoes.  This  suited  me  to  a  T.  It  was  one  of 
the  cinch  jobs  of  the  contract,  and  I  was 
mighty  lucky  to  get  it.  It  was  my  sight 
that  got  it,  not  I. 

For  an  hour  each  day  I  could  exercise  in 
the  yard,  a  privilege  denied  to  those  who 
worked.  I  stayed  at  this  work  until  I  left 
the  institution,  some  six  months  later.  When 
I  did  leave  I  knew  about  as  much  of  the  shoe 
business  as  I  did  when  I  started,  and  that 
was  nothing  at  all.  So  much  for  the  argu- 
ment that  the  contract  system  is  conducive 
to  trade-learning. 

The  day  finally  came  for  my  discharge. 


56          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

I  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  shoddy  material 
worth  about  five  dollars.  I  was  given  the 
magnificent  sum  of  four  dollars  and  left  to 
shift  for  myself.  This  brings  to  light  an- 
other reason  why  so  many  men  return  to  the 
underworld.  They  have  been  incarcerated 
for  a  long  number  of  years.  Friends  and 
home  are  all  gone.  The  money  given  them  is 
soon  used.  There  is  no  one  to  whom  they  can 
turn,  so  they  return  to  the  places  where  the 
criminals  meet.  It's  not  natural  that  they 
should  starve,  and  they  have  too  much  pride 
to  beg.  They  see  an  opportunity  to  get 
some  easy  money  and  they  take  the  chance ; 
the  chance  more  than  often  proves  a  fall. 
Another  step  is  thus  taken  in  the  making  of 
the  habitual  criminal. 


CHAPTER  X 
CRIMINAL  CLASSES 

THE  professional  criminal  is  a  type  little 
understood  by  the  vast  majority  of  people. 
Most  people  imagine  him  a  type  of  man 
inherently  and  thoroughly  vicious,  with  no 
saving  grace  in  his  character.  The  criminals 
I  have  known  are  not  of  this  kind.  Be  it 
understood  in  writing  of  "professional" 
criminals  that  I  mean  the  one  known  to  the 
police  as  the  professional  man,  the  man  who 
steals  in  some  shape  or  another  for  a  living, 
not  the  murderer  or  the  ravisher,  not  the 
bigamist  or  the  assaulter  of  women.  These 
crimes  are  as  foreign  to  the  professional 
crook  as  they  are  to  the  average  man. 

The  underworld  can  be  divided  into  two 
principal  classes,  those  of  settled  disposi- 
tions, preying  in  the  locality  in  which  they 
reside,  and  those  whose  methods  take  them 

57 


58          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

about  the  entire  country  and  world.  The 
former  class  is  the  less  numerous.  It  is 
characterized  by  particularly  petty  acts. 
Working  in  the  majority  of  cases  under  the 
protection  of  the  police  or  some  ward  heeler, 
these  men  are  seldom  apprehended.  In  this 
class  is  found  the  petty  "dip"  (pickpocket), 
who  makes  the  street  cars  and  the  markets 
his  specialty.  The  confidence  man  who  has 
seen  better  days,  making  his  hangout  in  some 
second-class  hotel,  picking  up  a  few  pennies 
here  and  there  with  the  connivance  of  the 
police,  is  another  type.  The  receiver  of 
stolen  goods  (a  fence),  with  his  little  store 
as  a  blind,  belongs  to  this  group.  Then  there 
is  the  second-story  man  domiciled  in  some 
cheap  lodging  house,  from  whence  he  makes 
his  nightly  excursions  into  the  realms  of 
"chance."  In  the  city  residing  from  year 
to  year  is  also  found  the  "stool"  (informer) . 
The  police,  knowing  them  to  be  incapable  of 
big  work,  allow  them  to  prey  within  certain 
restrictions  for  the  information  they  bring 
to  them.  The  stool  never  or  seldom  leaves 
the  city.  His  chances  of  returning  would  be 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       59 

slight  indeed  if  the  fact  were  ever  found  out. 
The  stool  is  a  big  asset  to  every  police  de- 
partment. Through  him  the  police  are  noti- 
fied of  the  presence  in  town  of  any  of  the  big 
men  of  the  profession.  Living  in  the  under- 
world, he  has  means  of  getting  advance  in- 
formation of  some  job  to  be  pulled  off.  He 
does  work  for  which  he  receives  in  pay  the 
supposed  friendship  of  the  police.  The 
petty  tricks  that  he  pulls  off  pass  unnoticed. 
If,  by  any  chance,  he  should  find  himself 
within  the  clutches  of  the  law,  his  friendship 
with  the  police,  in  most  cases,  is  sufficient  to 
have  the  case  against  him  dropped.  Of 
course  the  stool  is  not  known  as  such  among 
his  companions  of  the  underworld.  He  re- 
mains a  stool,  pulsating  with  life,  only  be- 
cause he  is  successful  in  blinding  his  pals  to 
his  hypocrisy. 

In  that  class  which  makes  the  world  its 
field  are  found  the  big  men  of  the  profes- 
sion: the  counterfeiter,  not  the  maker  of 
silver  coin,  but  the  fellows  whose  specialties 
are  notes  from  a  hundred  up;  the  keen, 
quick-witted  forger,  the  well-groomed  and 


60          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

affable  "con  man";  the  bank  thief,  nimble 
and  light  of  foot;  the  badger  man  and 
woman,  heartless  and  cunning  in  their 
scheming.  Among  the  rougher  workers  are 
found  the  yegg,  nerveless  and  cool  in  the 
face  of  danger,  the  stick-up  man,  with  his 
stealthy  tread  and  ever-ready  "rod,"  the 
"prowler"  (burglar),  and  a  host  of  others. 
In  this  class  are  found  the  "wanted"  men  of 
the  profession.  By  railroad  and  boat  they 
travel  over  the  face  of  the  earth.  Living 
with  their  kind,  ransacking  the  world  in 
search  of  plunder,  they  live  their  life. 

It's  a  life  of  chance,  this  life  in  the  under- 
world. The  crook  plays  with  it  daily,  toys 
with  it  in  his  every  endeavor.  He  has  antici- 
pated arrest  for  so  many  years  that  the 
actual  culmination  of  his  fears  hasn't  the 
shock  in  it  which  it  would  have  otherwise. 


CHAPTER  XI 
SOME  TYPES  OF  CROOKS 

THE  "con  man,"  the  bank  sneak,  the 
counterfeiter  (of  notes)  and  his  allies,  the 
forger,  the  big  dip,  and  the  badger  man  are 
what  might  be  called  the  aristocrats  of  the 
underworld  because  their  work  requires  on 
their  part  always  a  polished  exterior.  A 
good  "front"  (appearance)  in  their  line  is 
essential  to  success. 

The  morning  sun  may  see  the  criminal 
the  acme  of  contentment,  money  in  his 
pocket,  a  smile  on  his  face;  'the  evening 
shadows  may  fall  on  him  pacing  a  cell  in 
some  detention  house.  Yet  the  crook  takes 
the  chance. 

It's  a  peculiar  characteristic  of  all  crooks, 
that  sooner  or  later  they  know  they'll  see 
the  inside  of  a  "stir"  (prison) .  They  realize 
that  at  the  end  of  their  road  a  prison  waits 
for  them  with  open  arms.  I  believe  it  is 

61 


62          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

this  fact  which  makes  the  crook  so  philo- 
sophical in  defeat. 

The  "con  man"  is  invariably  a  man  of 
fine  appearance,  possessed  of  a  better  than 
ordinary  education.  He  must  have  a  per- 
sonality to  attract,  a  conversational  ability 
to  hold  attention.  They  are  invariably 
"good  livers,"  used  to  the  best,  and  are  at- 
tracted only  by  large  money.  The  big  dip, 
the  forger,  and  the  bank  thief  are  all  men 
above  the  ordinary  of  the  underworld. 

At  the  head  of  all  of  them  I  would  place 
the  counterfeiter,  the  man  whose  mechanical 
ability  and  resourcefulness  makes  him  a 
menace  to  the  government.  His  work  re* 
quires  a  technical  training  of  many  years. 
Cleaner  than  the  average  in  mechanical 
skill,  his  is  a  profession  envied  by  his  lesser 
fellows. 

Another  type  of  the  gentleman  crook  is 
the  badger  man — a  sort  of  blackmailer, 
whose  work  is  helped  to  its  consummation 
by  a  woman  companion.  In  this  species  of 
crime  the  woman  is  always  the  principal,  the 
man  but  an  accessory.  It  is  a  type  requiring 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       63 

a  good  appearance,  the  ability  to  assume 
certain  emotions,  such,  for  instance,  as  a 
wronged  husband  is  supposed  to  have  on 
viewing  his  wife  in  the  company  of  another 
man.  This  type  differs  from  the  majority 
of  crooks  in  that  it  is  cold  and  heartless. 

In  the  rougher  class  the  yegg  stands 
prominently  at  the  top.  Taking  the  place 
of  the  old  bank  burglar,  he  has  proved  one 
of  the  most  feared  and  the  most  desperate  of 
all  crooks.  His  is  a  roving  life  entirely. 
Using  the  railroads  of  the  country  as  a 
method  of  transportation,  distance  to  him 
but  lends  enchantment.  In  the  yegg  class 
are  found  graduates  of  all  the  other  criminal 
professions.  I  have  known  stick-up  men 
and  former  dips,  burglars  and  a  former 
counterfeiter  as  members  of  different  gangs. 
The  class  is  exclusive,  the  members  seldom 
fraternizing  with  the  others  of  the  under- 
world. There  is  a  loyalty  to  each  other 
found  among  the  yeggs  which  is  character- 
istic of  them.  In  all  of  my  experience  I 
know  of  but  one  yegg  turning  a  "squealer" 
(State  witness)  against  his  pals.  Woe  to 


64          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

him  if  caught  without  the  protection  of  the 
police.  The  yegg,  unlike  the  gentlemanly 
types  of  the  underworld,  cares  little  for 
women.  The  illgotten  gains  are  spent 
"slopping  up"  (getting  drunk)  in  the 
jungles  (outside  the  city)  in  the  summer,  or 
in  some  particular  rendezvous  of  the  city  in 
the  winter  time.  He  never  saves;  his  is  the 
life  of  the  present. 

The  stick-up  man  (hold-up),  the  burglar, 
and  like,  make  up  the  other  types,  along  with 
the  bum,  the  tramp,  and  the  hobo.  I  have 
often  seen  the  bum,  the  tramp,  and  the  hobo 
classed  as  one  type  of  those  fellows  who  love 
life  better  than  they  love  work.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  each  type  is  a  class  distinct  in  itself. 
The  bum  makes  his  residence,  if  it  can  be 
rightly  called  residence,  exclusively  in  towns 
and  cities ;  he  never  leaves  them.  He  never 
works,  and  stands  the  lowest  in  the  life  of 
the  other  half.  The  tramp  is  a  mixture  of 
thief,  mendicant,  and  loafer.  He  will  never 
work;  the  genuine  tramp  excludes  from  his 
society  those  who  ever  do  work.  If  he  is 
ever  required  to  work  in  return  for  a  meal, 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       65 

he  forfeits  the  meal  rather  than  to  soil  his 
reputation  by  labor.  He  steals  when  oppor- 
tunity offers,  and  begs  when  he  gets  the 
chance.  He  differs  from  the  yegg,  in  that 
his  life  is  not  entirely  devoted  to  crime. 
From  the  ranks  of  the  tramp  the  society  of 
yeggs  is  sometimes  recruited ;  from  the  bum, 
never.  The  hobo  differs  from  both  in  the 
respect  that  he  works  occasionally,  and  sel- 
dom steals.  Roaming  about  the  country, 
working  here  and  there  in  railroad  and 
lumber  camps,  and  canneries,  his  traveling 
is  always  to  a  destination.  A  stake  is  made 
and  he  and  his  pals  go  to  the  city  for  a 
spree.  The  money  spent,  he  is  back  again 
on  the  railroad  looking  toward  a  job. 

In  the  spring,  when  the  warm  sun  begins 
to  kiss  the  green  into  the  grasses,  the  tramp 
stretches  his  frame  and  listens.  He  hears 
the  call  of  the  road,  and  his  nature  hearkens 
thereto.  Soon  the  railroads  know  him,  and 
the  farmers  feel  the  weight  of  his  appetite. 
It's  a  care-free  life  these  tramps  live.  Living 
in  the  present,  without  responsibility,  they 
go  their  way  until  death  claims  them. 


CHAPTER  XII 
MORALS  IN  THE  UNDERWORLD 

I  LEFT  the  prison  with  my  moral  sense 
warped  and  twisted.  I  do  not  mean  to  say 
that  I  had  lost  the  faculty  of  differentiating 
between  right  and  wrong  entirely.  No,  not 
that,  but  association  with  debased  natures 
and  the  influence  of  vicious  environment  had 
combined  to  break  down  my  sense  of  moral 
values.  Things  which  I  had  been  taught  to 
abhor  as  contaminating  to  health  and  morals 
I  found  myself  looking  at  with  complacent 
eyes. 

Some  few  persons  have  asked  me  whether 
before  the  commission  of  a  crime  the  man 
does  not  think  of  the  right  or  wrong  of  it. 
I  have  answered  them  that  he  does  not,  that 
the  question  of  morality  never  enters  into 
the  mind  of  the  crook.  Of  course,  if  you 
could  stop  a  crook  immediately  before  the 
commission  of  his  act  and  ask  him  if  he 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       67 

didn't  know  the  act  to  be  wrong,  generally 
speaking,  he  would  answer,  "Yes."  He 
would  answer  thus  because  the  morality  of 
the  thing  would  be  put  square  before  him. 
Lacking  the  reminders,  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
he  never  does. 

The  professional  crook  is  a  difficult 
problem  to  handle,  when  looking  toward  a 
reformation.  Years  of  living  without  the 
necessity  of  labor  have  made  him  unsuited 
to  a  great  many  occupations,  and  this, 
coupled  with  the  fact  that  a  great  many  are 
without  trades,  makes  it  a  problem  which 
only  the  wise  can  handle. 

I  know  there  are  a  great  many  people  in 
this  world  with  just  the  best  of  intentions 
toward  this  class  of  men.  They  are  inter- 
ested in  social  work,  they  have  a  heart  swell- 
ing with  sympathy,  and  hands  eager  to  help 
lift  the  load,  but  they  lack  understanding. 
I  know  a  fellow  helped  toward  hell  by  a 
man  of  good  intentions.  Men  have  been 
pauperized  by  sympathy.  The  lazy  are  ever 
ready  for  some  one  else  to  bear  their  load. 
It  takes  more  than  good  intentions,  more 


68          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

than  sympathy,  more  than  a  readiness  to 
help,  to  make  a  reformation  in  the  character 
of  the  crook.  The  man  who  seeks  to  reclaim 
these  men  (I  say  man  because  I  know  of 
only  one  woman  ever  successful  in  this 
effort — Mrs.  Ballington  Booth)  must  first 
of  all  understand  them.  He  must  know  life 
as  it  is,  not  as  he  thinks  it  is.  He  must  have 
as  his  patron  saint  the  virtue  patience; 
absolutely  he  must  be  an  optimist,  yet  not 
a  visionary;  he  must  be  gentle,  yet  strong, 
acting  absolutely  on  the  square  toward  the 
man  he  fain  would  reclaim.  He  must  be 
religious.  Not  a  conventional  churchgoer. 
No,  he  must  be  more  than  that.  His  reli- 
gion must  emanate  from  his  personality. 
Creed  must  be  subdued,  sectarianism  must 
give  place  to  brotherhood.  Even  these 
qualifications  do  not  necessarily  mean  suc- 
cess. As  no  man  of  the  underworld  is  like 
his  fellow,  different  methods  will  need  to  be 
followed  in  the  effort  to  reclaim  them.  I 
have  outlined  the  fundamentals  essential  to 
even  a  partial  success  in  this  line.  The  op- 
portunities for  good  are  beyond  number. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
SYSTEMATIC  LAWLESSNESS 

SOON  after  leaving  prison  I  fell  in  with 
an  old  "stir"  (prison)  acquaintance.  He 
was  an  older  man  than  I  was,  wise  as  to  the 
methods  of  the  underworld,  and  cunning  in 
crime.  He  proposed  a  partnership.  I 
agreed,  and  the  following  three  years  we 
wandered  together  over  a  good  portion  of 
the  world.  We  visited  the  larger  cities  of 
Europe,  matching  our  wits  against  the 
police,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  always 
making  a  clean  getaway.  Of  course  we  did 
no  big  work.  Ours  was  of  a  petty  nature. 

Tiring  of  the  Continent,  we  drifted  back 
to  the  States,  wandering  from  one  to  an- 
other. The  pickings  from  promiscuous  work 
became  poor,  and  we  decided  to  systematize 
our  further  efforts.  Looking  about  for  easy 
graft,  we  decided  "working  the  rattlers" 
looked  the  most  promising.  "Working  the 

69 


70          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

rattler"  is  a  term  applied  by  the  underworld 
to  denote  the  robbing  of  freight  trains, 
generally  in  transit.  We  organized  a  gang 
of  four  men  as  active  workers.  It  was  no 
trouble  to  find  men  in  different  cities,  eager 
and  anxious  to  take  off  our  hands  what 
booty  we  might  happen  to  get.  Right  here 
I  want  to  say  that  it  would  no  doubt  create 
some  surprise  to  some  people  to  know  the 
identity  of  those  very  "fences."  Of  course 
it  is  impossible  for  me  here  to  mention 
names,  but  I  will  say  that  among  the  men 
to  whom  we  regularly  sold  our  stuff  were 
found  some  of  the  solid  men  of  the  com- 
munity, both  financially  and  socially.  The 
nature  of  the  "fence"  is  essentially  selfish. 
Knowing  the  origin  of  the  goods  to  be  sold, 
he  offers  an  absurd  sum  for  them.  The 
crook  may  at  first  hesitate,  but  finally  ac- 
cedes to  the  bargain.  The  majority  of 
"fences"  I  found  were  crooked,  even  to  the 
crooks  themselves.  The  men  know  this,  yet 
still  continue  to  deal  with  him.  One  of  the 
paradoxes  of  the  underworld  is  this  pertinent 
fact:  that  notwithstanding  the  known  repu- 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       71 

tation  of  a  "fence"  for  crookedness,  the  thief 
will  still  continue  to  deal  with  him.  The 
"fence,"  as  a  rule,  looks  to  his  own  welfare 
first.  If  the  police  happen  to  "get  the  goods" 
on  him,  and  offer  as  an  inducement  the 
safety  of  himself,  the  "fence"  will  usually 
give  the  information  sought  by  the  police. 
He  thinks  nothing  of  turning  "State's  evi- 
dence," providing  his  liberty  is  assured  him. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  crooks  is  their 
habit  of  congregating  in  the  city  in  some 
rendezvous  of  the  underworld,  known  to  the 
police  as  such.  Ask  any  police  head  if  such 
places  exist,  and  he  will  tell  you  that  they 
do.  Notwithstanding  this  surveillance  of 
the  police,  the  crook  still  continues  to  make 
it  his  resort  until  he  leaves,  no  more  to  return 
for  a  period  of  years. 

"Working  the  rattlers"  proved  a  well- 
paying  proposition.  Our  method  of  work 
was  systematized  to  an  extent  little  dreamed 
of  by  the  mediocre  guardians  of  the  road. 
Night  was  the  time  of  operation.  We  would 
wait  at  a  division  point  on  the  railroad  for 
a  train  loaded  with  merchandise  to  pull  out. 


72  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

Two  of  us  would  enter  the  car  after  break- 
ing the  seal.  The  two  would  then  be  locked 
in,  the  car  resealed,  and  the  remaining  two 
would  ride  on  the  train  itself  to  our  pre- 
arranged point  of  debarkation. 

Once  inside,  the  two  would  search  the  car 
for  easy  marketable  products.  These  would 
be  packed  in  bags,  the  bags  tied  and  packed 
at  the  door  for  easy  egress.  A  merchandise 
train  is  generally  what  is  called  a  through 
train,  that  is,  it  seldom  stops  between  divi- 
sions, unless  it  does  so  for  water.  Just 
before  our  agreed  place  for  debarkation  one 
of  the  outside  men,  by  the  aid  of  a  rope 
ladder,  would  slip  over  the  side  of  the  car, 
break  the  seal  and  open  the  door.  The  goods 
would  then  be  thrown  out,  and  a  little  fur- 
ther down  the  road,  we  ourselves  would 
alight.  The  goods  would  then  be  placed  in 
a  wagon  and  driven  to  a  house  already 
rented  for  the  purpose.  Here  the  stuff  would 
be  assorted,  packed  and  shipped  to  different 
"fences,"  according  to  their  needs.  I  myself 
generally  followed  the  shipment  and  col- 
lected our  due. 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       73 

The  plan  worked  well  through  a  year.  The 
railroads  were  becoming  harassed  by  our 
depredations.  Police  were  sent  to  guard 
the  very  trains  upon  which  our  efforts  were 
centered,  but  with  no  marked  avail.  The 
losses  still  went  on.  All  "good  things," 
through  one  cause  or  another,  eventually 
come  to  an  end.  Ours  came  too. 

I  remember  the  day  of  my  arrest  like  the 
dawn  of  yesterday.  It  was  on  a  Sunday 
noon,  in  the  early  summer.  One  of  my 
pals  and  I  had  arranged  to  take  our  girls 
that  afternoon  to  a  nearby  resort.  We  had 
left  our  hotel  and  walked  to  the  corner  and 
stood  waiting  for  a  car.  The  car  came  and 
stopped,  and  just  as  we  were  about  to  get 
on,  two  men  in  the  blue  uniforms  of  the 
police  laid  their  hands  on  our  arms  and 
informed  us  that  the  captain  would  like  to 
see  us  for  a  moment.  Of  course  I  knew 
instantly  that  the  end  had  come,  yet  I  was 
curious  to  know  through  what  source  of  in- 
formation our  arrest  had  been  brought 
about. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
BETRAYAL  AND  ARREST 

THE  Saturday  preceding  the  Sunday  of 
my  arrest  was  one  of  rain.  I  was  reading 
in  my  room  when  a  knock  sounded  at  my 
door;  I  opened  it  and  found  one  of  my  ac- 
quaintances of  the  underworld  standing 
there.  He  also  was  "working  the  rattlers," 
but  on  a  much  smaller  scale  than  I.  I  in- 
vited him  inside,  and  in  the  course  of  our 
conversation  he  mentioned  the  fact  that  he 
had  a  gross  of  Stetson  hats  which  he  was 
anxious  for  me  to  dispose  of  for  him.  The 
proceeds  of  the  sale  he  told  me  were  to  go 
to  procure  a  "mouthpiece"  (a  lawyer),  to 
secure  the  release  of  his  pal  by  habeas 
corpus  proceedings.  I  told  him  I  thought 
I  could  do  as  he  desired,  and  asked  him  the 
whereabouts  of  the  hats.  It  seems  that  they 
were  at  that  time  hidden  out  in  the  woods 

74 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       75 

on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  The  stuff  was 
too  much  for  him  to  handle  at  once,  so  he 
came  to  me.  Our  reputation  in  the  under- 
world was  such  at  that  time  that  I  frequently 
performed  the  same  services  for  other  gangs. 
One  day,  several  weeks  before  this  inci- 
dent of  the  hats  occurred,  a  young  fellow 
whom  I  knew  kept  a  "fence,"  but  with 
whom  I  had  never  dealt,  performed  a  service 
worth  while  for  me  and  asked  me  to  re- 
member him  when  anything  "good"  came 
off.  On  numerous  occasions,  in  appreciation 
of  his  act,  I  had  sent  him  gifts  of  various 
things,  such  as  cloth  for  suits,  socks,  and  a 
general  run  of  men's  furnishings  and  the 
like.  He  continued  to  remind  me  of  my 
promise  to  let  him  get  in  on  a  "good  thing." 
I  thought  of  him  the  first  thing  when  the 
question  of  the  disposal  of  the  hats  was 
brought  up,  and  in  a  minute  or  so  I  had 
him  on  the  phone.  I  told  him  that  there 
were  about  a  gross  of  the  hats  and  asked 
fifty  cents  per  hat  for  them.  He  was  pleased 
immensely  and  we  struck  a  bargain  right  off. 
So  eager  was  he  for  them  that  he  offered 


76          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

to  furnish  the  horse  and  wagon  to  carry  the 
stuff  off. 

About  2  p.  M.  that  day  three  of  us  in  the 
wagon  went  to  the  place  where  the  hats  were 
hidden.  He  was  delighted  with  his  find,  im- 
mediately paid  me  the  money,  and  drove  off 
with  his  hats.  Forty  minutes  after  leaving 
us  he  drove  up  to  the  police  headquarters — 
wagon,  hats,  and  himself.  Unknown  to  us, 
the  police  had  used  him  as  a  stool,  threaten- 
ing him  with  some  minor  act  of  his.  I  think 
it  is  Burns  who  says  something  to  the  effect 
that  the  best  laid  plans  of  men  oft  go  astray. 
We  had  guarded  ourselves  against  foes  from 
without,  but  had  neglected  to  watch  those 
from  within  our  own  ranks. 

Immediately  upon  our  arrest  the  police 
of  the  different  railroads  became  active. 
Every  theft  ever  committed  from  these  same 
roads  was  laid  at  our  door.  Goods  were 
found  in  several  warehouses  which  upon  ex- 
amination were  found  to  have  been  stolen 
in  transit.  The  woods  were  searched 
thoroughly  and  several  caches  of  goods 
found.  Fences  whom  I  had  never  heard 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       77 

of,  let  alone  dealt  with,  hurried  to  identify 
us.  A  guilty  conscience  anticipates  disaster 
long  before  its  actual  consummation.  The 
fences  caught  with  the  goods  from  other 
parties  saw  a  chance  to  square  themselves 
by  identifying  us  as  the  culprits.  The  fact 
that  we  were  innocent  of  that  particular  act 
made  no  difference  with  them.  The  doors 
of  the  prison  were  opened,  ready  to  swing 
shut  on  their  backs.  The  police  offered  to 
square  their  case  if  they  appeared  against 
us.  They,  of  course,  appeared. 

The  case  of  the  police  against  us  was  not 
as  absolute  as  they  and  we  thought.  A  few 
weeks  after  our  arrest  the  fence  from 
whom  the  information  came,  becoming 
alarmed  by  rumors  that  friends  of  ours 
were  out  to  "get"  (kill  or  injure)  him, 
skipped  the  State  and  left  the  prosecuting 
attorney  in  a  quandary.  Without  the  evi- 
dence of  the  fence  a  successful  prosecution 
against  us  was  impossible.  The  evidence  in 
other  cases  soon  proved  to  be  the  testimony 
of  the  fence  against  ours.  After  lying  in 
jail  for  eight  months,  with  the  consent  of 


78  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

the  railroads,  and  on  our  promise  to  return 
certain  goods  in  our  possession,  they  agreed 
to  free  us.  We  consented  and  once  again 
walked  the  street  as  free  men.  After  pass- 
ing through  this  experience,  we  decided  that 
any  future  work  in  this  line  would  be  extra 
hazardous  and  the  gang  dispersed. 


CHAPTER  XV 
PECULIARITIES  OF  "YEGGS" 

ONE  night  as  a  group  of  us  lolled  about 
a  camp  fire  I  was  asked  to  join  a  gang  of 
yeggs  then  about  to  start  out  on  a  trip. 
I  accepted  the  invitation,  and  the  following 
two  years  saw  me  risking  life  and  liberty 
in  the  most  dangerous  of  all  the  underworld 
pursuits.  The  life  of  a  yegg  is  a  life  of 
stirring  adventures.  In  the  majority  of 
cases  each  crime  means  a  fight  for  a  getaway. 
The  yegg  keeps  to  his  class  and  is  a  strict 
observer  of  caste.  He  hates  work  as  he 
hates  the  police,  and  carries  his  hatred  fur- 
ther to  those  who  do  work.  The  yegg  is  a 
rough  worker  and  dresses  in  the  jungles 
(outside  the  city)  to  suit  his  calling.  His 
greatest  passion  is  drink;  he  will  "slop  up" 
(get  drunk)  whenever  the  opportunity  is 
offered,  except,  of  course,  in  the  immediate 

79 


80          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

pursuit  of  some  easy  money.  Unlike  the 
dip  (pickpocket)  who  has  a  "skirt" 
(woman)  always  near  him,  the  yegg  seldom 
bothers  about  them.  His  recreation  is  got- 
ten from  the  state  of  mind  which  alcohol 
produces.  He  lives  in  the  present  and  cares 
not  a  cent  what  the  morrow  may  bring  forth. 

Yeggs,  as  a  class,  have  certain  character- 
istics differentiating  them  from  the  rest  of 
the  underworld.  Loyalty  to  one  another  is 
preeminent  in  their  make-up.  Though  the 
yegg  has  been  known  to  kill  in  making  his 
getaway,  he  never  degenerates  to  the  cruelty 
of  the  stick-up  man.  He  never  tortures, 
nor  do  I  know  of  any  guilty  of  crimes 
against  womanhood.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
a  life  should  stand  between  him  and  liberty, 
he  would  unhesitatingly  take  that  life.  I 
know  of  no  instance  where  a  life  has  been 
taken  simply  because  that  life  stood  between 
the  yegg  and  money. 

To  cite  an  instance  of  the  loyalty  of  the 
yegg,  I  will  recount  an  incident  that  I  know 
of  intimately. 

In  a  small  village  of  one  of  the  Eastern 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       81 

States  was  a  store  owned  by  one  of  the 
prominent  men  of  the  town.  In  connection 
with  the  store,  and  in  the  same  building,  was 
the  only  bank  in  the  town.  Over  the  bank 
one  of  the  employees  always  slept.  One 
night  in  the  late  winter  a  gang  of  yeggs 
descended  upon  the  village  and  attacked  the 
bank.  They  found  little  difficulty  in  forc- 
ing an  entrance  and  inserting  enough 
"soup"  (nitro  glycerine)  to  throw  open  the 
door  at  the  first  "shot"  (explosion).  There 
was  an  inner  door,  however,  and  they  went 
back  into  the  building  to  insert  another 
charge.  In  the  meantime  the  employee  of 
the  bank,  sleeping  overhead,  was  awakened 
by  the  first  explosion.  With  more  nerve 
than  sense,  he  grabbed  a  shotgun,  inserted 
two  shells,  and  noiselessly  slipped  down  the 
stairs  to  investigate.  At  about  this  time 
the  yeggs  were  returning  for  the  second 
shot  and  they  met  the  employee  just  at  the 
threshold.  The  employee  shot  at  the  fore- 
most of  the  yeggs,  both  barrels  throwing 
their  load  of  lead  through  the  yegg's  right 
arm,  just  beneath  the  shoulder.  The  arm 


82  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

was  nearly  severed  and  the  yegg  lay  stunned 
on  the  floor.  The  rest  of  the  gang  took  the 
recumbent  form  of  their  pal  in  their  arms 
and  after  stopping  at  a  safe  distance  to 
give  what  succor  they  could,  carried  him 
in  the  face  of  pursuit  for  fourteen  miles. 
Twice  they  were  caught  up  with  by  the 
following  posses  and  as  many  times  they 
eluded  them.  They  eventually  escaped  al- 
together. The  wounded  yegg  lost  his  arm, 
but  not  his  liberty.  There  are  many  such 
instances  of  loyalty  to  clan  in  the  history 
of  the  yegg  life. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CONCERNING  PRISON 
MANAGEMENT 

DURING  my  career  as  a  yegg  I  was  ar- 
rested four  times  and  stood  trial  in  two  of 
the  cases  and  "beat"  (was  acquitted  in) 
both.  One  case  never  came  to  trial,  the 
other  one  brought  me  a  State  prison  sentence 
of  fifteen  years.  The  crime  was  blowing 
open  a  safe  from  which  we  failed  to  secure 
a  single  penny.  Such  is  the  life  of  a  yegg. 
I  heard  that  sentence  of  fifteen  years  pro- 
nounced upon  me  with  a  feeling  mixed  with 
contempt  and  hatred.  I  hated  society,  I 
was  antagonistic  to  religion,  and  the  sen- 
tence of  fifteen  years  but  aggravated  both. 
I  pictured  the  bank  thief,  the  respectable 
crook  getting  away  with  the  savings  of 
widows  and  children,  with  his  paltry  three 
years'  punishment.  I  saw  the  seducer  of 

83 


84          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

chaste  women  come  off  the  stand  with  a  mere 
sentence  of  months.  The  pictures  intensi- 
fied my  hatred  and  I  entered  prison  to  begin 
my  sentence,  a  criminal  in  mind  and  nature. 

Dante  once  wrote  that  he  found  this  in- 
scription over  the  doors  of  hell:  "Abandon 
hope  all  ye  who  enter  here."  This  describes 
to  a  nicety  the  prison  in  which  I  was  confined 
for  nearly  eight  years.  Over  the  thousand 
and  one  prisoners,  a  warden  of  the  old  school 
of  penology  presided.  He  was  one  who  be- 
lieved in  and  practiced  the  adage,  "An  eye 
for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth."  Yes,  he 
even  went  further  than  that.  He  was  a 
man  of  undoubted  executive  ability.  He 
would  have  made  an  ideal  head  of  some  cor- 
poration where  the  question  of  men's  souls 
and  bodies  never  entered  into  consideration. 
You  could  have  searched  the  world  to  find 
one  less  worthy  to  be  at  the  head  of  an  in- 
stitution of  this  kind. 

A  saloon  keeper,  he  had  found  the  friend- 
ship of  one  politically  high  and  secured  the 
position.  With  the  odor  of  his  calling  still 
upon  him  he  came  from  behind  his  bar  to  sit 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       85 

in  the  office  of  the  warden.  He  had  the  life 
and  liberty,  the  responsibility  of  a  thousand 
men  under  his  care.  For  over  twenty  years 
he  guarded  the  destiny  of  this  institution. 
He  was  the  enemy  of  every  reform  ever 
initiated.  He  refused  to  let  outside  men  or 
women  interest  themselves  in  the  cause  of 
the  prisoner.  He  made  rules  of  unusual 
severity  and  punished  cruelly  any  infrac- 
tion. In  this  prison  the  contract  system  of 
employing  prisoners  was  in  use,  and  the 
warden  was  ever  the  friend  of  the  contractor, 
He  was  eventually  found  guilty  of  grafting 
by  a  committee  of  investigation,  and  shortly 
before  the  verdict  of  these  men  resigned  his 
office. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
MISTAKES  OF  A  CHAPLAIN 

ONE  of  the  surprises  of  my  life  I  received 
here  in  this  same  institution.  It  was  a  dis- 
appointment as  well  as  a  surprise.  It  was 
in  the  character  of  the  chaplain — a  minister 
of  the  gospel.  This  professed  follower  of 
the  Nazarene  was  as  little  a  Christian  as  I. 
The  official  above  all  others  who  should  ob- 
tain the  confidence  of  the  prisoners  was  the 
man  most  detested  by  them.  This  dislike 
on  the  part  of  the  men  was  well  founded. 
He  was  sectarian  rather  than  Christian,  and 
hostile  to  all  creeds  other  than  his  own.  His 
insincerity  was  evident  from  his  daily  life. 
I  have  heard  him  preach  on  the  blessings  of 
poverty  with  three  rings  on  his  fingers,  his 
gold  watch  lying  open  on  the  table  before 
him,  and  a  ruby  throwing  scintillating  rays 
from  its  resting  place  in  his  neck  scarf, 

86 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       87 

A  prisoner  in  the  last  stages  of  tubercu- 
losis once  sent  for  him.  The  chaplain  came 
to  his  bedside  some  few  days  later.  The 
prisoner  was  weak  and  exhausted  from  much 
coughing.  The  chaplain  looked  down  on 
him  and  asked  in  a  voice  toned  with  dis- 
approval, "Well,  what  do  you  want  with 
me  ?"  The  prisoner  whispered  that  he  would 
like  him  to  pray  with  him.  "It's  too  late 
for  that,"  the  chaplain  answered  as  he  turned 
from  the  bedside.  Some  few  days  after  the 
man  died. 

The  duties  of  the  chaplain  consisted  of 
opening  and  reading  the  letters  sent  and 
received  by  the  prisoners,  and  preaching  and 
praying  on  Sundays.  We  think  the  Master 
paid  scant  attention  to  his  prayers. 

The  personality  of  the  warden  had  con- 
taminated the  characters  of  his  underlings 
with  few  exceptions.  The  guards  were  un- 
suited  to  their  positions  and  held  them  only 
by  reason  of  political  influence.  Like  a 
flower  standing  amid  a  great  expanse  of 
tares  and  thistles  stood  one  man  in  this  in- 
stitution. He  held  at  that  time  the  position 


88          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

of  assistant  warden,  and  I  ever  found  him 
square  and  decent.  It  was  due  to  him  in  no 
small  measure  when  the  prisoners  enjoyed 
any  privileges.  He  leaned  ever  on  the  side 
of  the  man,  always  human  and  ready  to  do 
a  favor. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
CONTRACT  LABOR 

THE  question  of  what  to  do  with  the 
prisoner  during  the  period  of  his  confinement 
has  always  been  a  difficult  one.  The  system 
of  leasing  the  labor  of  the  prisoner  to  the 
highest  bidder,  up  to  a  few  years  ago,  was 
common  in  the  different  States.  It  was  an 
easy  solution  to  an  intricate  problem,  and 
the  State,  looking  only  at  the  present,  gave 
its  assent  to  the  method.  It  is  a  system 
particularly  slavish  in  its  workings,  de- 
humanizing to  the  men  working  under  it, 
and  the  source  of  most  of  the  brutality  found 
in  penal  institutions. 

In  the  prison  where  I  was,  the  contractor 
paid  the  large  sum  of  fifty-five  cents  for  the 
labor  of  each  man  per  day.  This  sum  in- 
cluded rent,  heat,  power,  and  insurance  on 
the  building.  The  product  turned  out  en- 
tered into  competition  with  the  product  of 

89 


90          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

free  labor,  having  the  tendency  to  lower  the 
price  of  the  competing  article,  and,  in  turn, 
lowering  the  wage  of  the  free  laborer.  All 
this  is  done  not  for  the  good  of  society  at 
large,  but  for  the  particular  aggrandizement 
of  a  few  individuals.  These  individuals,  in 
most  cases,  come  into  the  State  from  the 
outside;  they  pay  no  taxes  and  bring  into 
the  State  no  assets  beneficial  to  the  people 
at  large.  They  engage  this  contract  labor  at 
insignificant  prices,  and  force  the  product 
of  this  labor  on  the  free  market.  This  in 
itself  is  unfair  to  the  employer  of  free  labor 
who  brings  into  the  State  assets  beneficial 
to  all.  The  latter  pays  taxes  and  contributes 
toward  the  upkeep  of  the  State.  His  manu- 
factory attracts  laborers  who  eventually  be- 
come citizens.  His  weekly  pay  roll  spreads 
and  makes  itself  felt  among  numerous  busi- 
nesses, which  in  turn  also  contribute  toward 
the  support  of  the  State  and  city.  On  the 
face  of  it,  is  it  not  manifestly  unfair  to  the 
employer  of  free  men  to  be  forced  to  com- 
pete with  the  product  of  the  prison  con- 
tractor? 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       91 

This  is  only  the  economic  side  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  moral  side  of  it  is  seen  in  the 
fact  that  the  system  tends  to  debauch  all 
those  who  come  in  contact  with  it.  It  de- 
humanizes the  prisoners,  leaving  them  with- 
out hope  or  reward.  It  hardens  the  sensi- 
bilities of  the  guards  watching  over  them. 
Wherever  the  system  is  in  vogue  there  will 
be  found  brutality  rampant.  If  the  prisoner 
is  unable  to  do  his  allotted  task,  punishment 
is  resorted  to  to  force  him. 

Wardens  of  all  such  institutions  will  tell 
you  that  the  tasks  assigned  to  the  prisoner 
are  much  less  than  the  average  product  of 
the  free  laborer,  but  I  have  found  it  uni- 
versally true  that  the  tasks  assigned  equal, 
and  in  some  cases  exceed  the  output  of  the 
free  man.  The  prisoner  is  given  thirty  days 
to  become  proficient  in  his  work.  After  that 
time  he  is  expected  to  do  his  task  each  day. 
For  the  first  lapse  he  will  be  warned,  for 
the  second  a  light  punishment  will  be  given 
him.  If  he  continues  unable  to  perform  it, 
some  severe  punishment  is  meted  out  to  him. 
For  instance,  I  have  seen  a  prisoner  strung 


92          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

up  by  his  thumbs  for  the  noncompletion  of 
the  task,  and  left  this  way  for  a  period  of 
three  hours.  Can  you  imagine  the  feelings 
of  this  man  toward  society  and  the  State 
after  going  through  this  experience? 

The  prison  in  which  I  spent  my  last  con- 
finement was  unique  among  contract-labor 
prisons.  In  this  one  the  prisoner  was  at 
least  given  a  chance  to  earn  a  little  money 
for  his  own  use.  Not  all,  but  there  were  a 
few  among  the  many  who  were  able,  by 
heartrending  toil,  to  do  a  little  over  their 
daily  task.  For  this  overwork  the  prisoner 
was  paid  by  the  contractor  at  the  prevailing 
rates,  fifty-five  cents  a  task.  The  amount  of 
money  earned  by  the  man  would  average 
about  three  dollars  a  month.  Of  course  a 
great  many  of  the  men  would  earn  abso- 
lutely nothing.  A  few  earned  a  sum  ex- 
ceeding the  average.  This  same  overwork 
money  has  been  the  stumbling-block  to  the 
institution  of  any  reforms  in  this  same 
prison.  Any  criticism  leveled  at  the  insti- 
tution itself  or  the  system  in  vogue  at  the 
prison,  would  be  met  by  bringing  forth  these 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       93 

same  overtime  earnings.  The  sum  in  the 
aggregate  appeared  large,  but  to  one  wise 
in  the  law  of  averages  the  amount  shown 
but  proved  its  insignificance.  From  the 
books  of  this  same  institution  it  has  been 
shown  that  the  average  amount  taken  out 
by  the  men  discharged  has  been  under  two 
dollars.  What  a  munificent  sum  with  which 
to  begin  a  new  life ! 

I  believe  it  is  Emerson  who  says  "that 
every  institution  is  but  the  lengthened 
shadow  of  a  single  man."  This  prison 
proved  the  assertion  of  the  sage.  I  shall 
call  the  warden  Thomas,  for  that  is  as  far 
from  his  real  name  as  any  I  can  think  of. 
His  later  years  have  been  touched  by  a 
great  deal  of  sorrow,  and  I  am  not  inclined 
to  burden  his  remaining  days  with  a  con- 
stant repetition  of  his  shortcomings.  I 
have  mentioned  the  fact  before  that  he  was 
possessed  of  an  executive  ability  of  a  high 
order.  The  institution  was  run  like  clock- 
work. Like  cogs  well  turned  to  an  exact 
fit,  every  wheel  of  the  prison  worked  with>- 
out  jar  or  lost  motion.  He  was  distant  from 


94  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

both  the  guard  and  the  prisoner.  His  every 
effort  was  bent  to  the  turning  over  to  the 
State  of  a  surplus,  which  he  did  yearly.  The 
food  served  to  the  inmates  was  of  a  type 
both  poor  in  quality  and  deficient  in  quan- 
tity. I  have  come  away  from  the  table  on 
many  occasions  hungry.  The  washing  of 
our  clothes  was  never  rightly  done.  The 
warden  knew  the  soap  cost  money.  We 
were  allowed  two  ounces  of  soap  for  our- 
selves once  a  month;  if  that  were  not  suffi- 
cient for  our  use,  of  course  we  had  the  privi- 
lege of  buying  it  ourselves.  Imagine  two 
ounces  of  soap  lasting  a  man  a  month? 

Gladstone  said  that  he  could  tell  the 
civilization  of  a  nation  by  the  amount  of 
soap  its  inhabitants  used.  Imagine  yourself 
the  civilization  made  possible  by  this  warden. 

The  State  was  supposed  to  clothe  the  men 
in  its  prisons.  In  this  one,  however,  most  of 
the  men  clothed  themselves.  Outside  of  the 
suit  of  stripes  it  was  usual  for  all  of  us  to 
provide  for  our  own  wearing  apparel.  We 
also  paid  for  our  shaves  and  haircuts.  We 
could  have  worn  the  ill-smelling  clothes  the 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       95 

State  handed  out  to  us  if  we  had  desired. 
But  payment  for  our  haircut  was  absolutely 
imperative.  If  we  failed  to  pay,  we  went 
shorn  of  hirsute  adornment.  Of  course  all 
of  this  went  toward  adding  to  the  yearly 
surplus  of  the  warden. 

Another  instance  of  the  viciousness  of  the 
contract  system  was  that  it  kept  the  prisoner 
confined  long  after  his  sentence  expired. 
There  were  a  certain  number  of  days  allowed 
off  a  sentence  for  good  behavior.  Each 
prisoner  was  an  asset  to  the  contractor.  It 
was  a  question  of  dollars  and  cents  with  him. 
If  the  man  nearing  the  completion  of  the 
sentence  happened  to  fall  short  of  his  task 
or  to  transgress  one  of  the  many  rules  of  the 
institution,  time  would  be  added  to  his  sen- 
tence. That  is,  a  part  of  his  good  time.  In 
my  confinement  of  over  seven  years  I  found 
it  a  rare  occasion  for  any  man  to  be  turned 
out  at  the  completion  of  his  good  time.  Of 
course  this  but  put  into  the  minds  of  the 
prisoners  the  thought  that  the  prison  was 
run  for  the  special  benefit  of  the  prison  con- 
tractor. I  know  absolutely  that  a  contractor 


96          SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

asked  the  warden  to  hold  a  certain  man  be- 
yond his  good  time,  and  the  warden  did  it. 
You  may  say  that  such  an  instance  would 
not  happen  with  every  warden.  It  is  not 
the  fact  that  it  happens  that  makes  the  sys- 
tem so  outrageous,  but  the  fact  that  it  can 
happen. 

The  physician  of  this  prison  for  seventeen 
years  had  trouble  with  the  warden  about  ex- 
cusing men  unable  to  perform  their  work. 
The  warden  wanted  them  in  their  shops ;  he 
said  that  what  they  needed  was  not  so  much 
a  doctor  as  a  club.  The  physician,  suppos- 
ing that  he  knew  his  calling,  disagreed  with 
the  warden  and  brought  the  matter  to  the 
attention  of  the  Board  of  Directors.  The 
Board  sided  with  the  warden,  and  the 
physician  lost  his  place.  This  man  then 
went  before  the  State  medical  board  and 
charged  the  warden  with  no  less  than  mur- 
der. The  press  of  the  State,  instead  of 
demanding  an  investigation,  almost  without 
exception  characterized  the  charge  as  absurd. 
They  charged,  and  perhaps  charged  rightly, 
that  if  such  abuses  existed  in  a  prison  in  the 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD       97 

time  of  this  incumbency,  it  was  his  duty  to 
begin  to  inform  the  people  at  that  time,  not 
to  wait  till  he  had  been  ousted  from  his 
place,  to  begin.  Some  few  months  after  this 
incident  a  man  was  appointed  as  guard  from 
one  of  the  southern  counties.  On  his  first 
day  of  work  he  was  directed  by  the  warden 
to  string  up  a  prisoner  for  some  minor  in- 
fraction of  the  rules.  He  refused.  Another 
guard  willingly  did  the  work,  the  former 
guard  witnessing  the  punishment.  The  sight 
of  the  brutality  so  sickened  him  that  he  then 
and  there  handed  in  his  resignation.  He 
informed  one  of  the  papers  of  the  city  in 
which  the  prison  was  situated,  and  this  paper 
began  a  quiet  investigation  of  the  fact. 
Numerous  discharged  prisoners  told  of 
their  experiences,  former  guards  supple- 
mented this  testimony.  The  press  of  the 
State  took  notice,  some  of  them  demanding 
an  investigation  from  the  governor.  In  the 
meantime  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the 
prison  met  and  exonerated  the  warden  of 
all  the  charges  laid  against  him.  Finally 
the  governor  did  appoint  a  commission  to 


98  SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

investigate  and  they  began  work  immedi- 
ately. This  committee  found  the  warden 
guilty  of  petty  grafting,  of  brutal  treat- 
ment of  the  prisoners  under  him,  and  recom- 
mended the  abolition  of  the  contract-labor 
system.  A  few  months  before  the  rendering 
of  this  verdict  the  warden  resigned. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
PARDONED 

MY  sentence  had  been  for  a  period  of 
fifteen  years.  Allowing  for  a  commutation 
for  good  conduct  of  two  years  and  six 
months,  I  would  still  have  to  serve  twelve 
years  and  six  months.  Looking  ahead,  the 
end  of  that  period  seemed  long  in  the  future. 
I  did  not  dare  to  dwell  on  my  time.  Con- 
stant brooding  over  their  misfortune  is  what 
sends  so  many  prisoners  to  the  insane 
asylum.  I  tried  to  spend  my  time  in  much 
reading  and  a  little  writing,  yet  the  time 
seemed  endlessly  long.  From  five  on  a 
Saturday  afternoon  to  six  on  Monday  morn- 
ing I  was  locked  in  my  cell.  The  ventila- 
tion was  poor,  as  I  have  found  it  so  in  all 
such  places.  The  warden  had  once  told  me 
that  it  would  do  me  no  good  to  go  to  church, 
and  I  seldom  went.  The  character  of  the 

99 


100         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

chaplain  had  alienated  me  from  thoughts  of 
religion  and  I  drifted  into  the  philosophy 
of  the  atheist.  I  read  the  books  of  the  so- 
called  freethinkers,  and  in  the  reading  as- 
similated some  of  their  teachings.  I  took 
much  pains  that  my  pals  in  the  prison  should 
know  where  I  stood  in  this  matter  of  reli- 
gion, and  I  was  soon  known  among  them  as 
an  atheist  of  the  first  water.  Strange  to 
say,  among  the  men  in  the  different  prisons 
of  my  experience,  I  have  seldom  found  an 
out-and-out  atheist.  The  great  majority  of 
them  believe,  and  believe  strongly,  in  their 
Creator.  It  is  one  of  the  paradoxes  of  their 
nature.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  I  myself  am 
no  exception. 

One  day  there  happened  to  fall  into  my 
hands  an  announcement  of  a  poetry  contest 
that  a  certain  newspaper  was  about  to  begin. 
I  thought,  that  possessing  a  little  ability 
along  these  lines,  I  would  try  for  the  prize 
of  twenty-five  dollars  offered  for  the  best 
verse.  It  was  a  contest  wherein  the  verse 
offered  should  show  the  value  of  the  want 
ads  of  the  particular  paper.  I  wrote  a 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     101 

doggerel  and  sent  my  effort  to  the  paper. 
Some  few  days  after,  I  received  the  welcome 
news  that  my  verse  had  won  the  prize.  By 
reason  of  this  there  came  into  my  life  two 
friendships  that  have  molded  my  career  into 
straight  and  legitimate  channels. 

One  of  these  men,  to  whom  I  am  directly 
indebted  to  my  liberty  at  this  moment, 
noticed  my  effort  in  the  paper  and  came  over 
to  see  me.  I  at  first  hesitated  to  meet  him. 
I  wanted  no  friendships,  I  thought,  from 
men  of  the  outside  world.  You  see  my 
nature  had  been  so  deadened  by  my  method 
of  living  that  I  wanted  no  companionship 
except  that  coming  from  men  of  my  own 
class.  I  knew  the  common  type  of  the  re- 
former and  wanted  no  dealings  with  men  of 
that  kind.  I  finally  consented  to  see  him. 
His  type  of  mind  and  sensible  methods  soon 
appealed  to  me.  We  saw  each  other  fre- 
quently and  corresponded.  In  time  he 
brought  me  my  pardon.  There  is  a  big  spot 
in  my  heart  for  him. 

My  other  friend  is  a  minister.  I  have 
always  been  a  little  shy  on  meeting  preachers 


102         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

of  the  gospel.  Why  I  do  not  know.  But 
there  was  always  something  in  my  make-up 
that  ever  made  me  lukewarm  toward  men  of 
that  class.  I  had  this  against  ministers,  that 
the  most  of  them  whom  I  had  met  lacked, 
for  want  of  a  better  term,  the  strong  mascu- 
line personality  all  real  men  should  possess. 
They  appeared  to  me  to  have  a  sort  of  sticky 
sense  of  goodness  about  them  that  seems 
unreal  for  men  of  this  life  to  have.  They 
left  the  impression  of  feminism  upon  me.  I 
have  thought,  too,  somehow,  that  the  minis- 
ter of  the  present  does  not  know  life  as  it 
really  is,  that  he  spends  too  much  of  his 
time  in  preaching  and  too  little  in  doing. 
Of  course  I  believe  that  as  a  class  they  are 
all  doing  all  they  can  toward  a  betterment 
of  social  and  industrial  life,  but  I  would 
rather  they  took  their  facts  from  life  than 
from  books. 

Have  you  ever  met  a  man  whose  talk 
with  you  has  left  the  impression  that  it  is  a 
good  thing,  after  all,  to  live?  Such  an  im- 
pression did  I  receive  from  my  first  talk 
with  this  minister.  A  man  with  masculinity 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     103 

written  all  over  him;  a  man  of  strong  con- 
victions, yet  possessed  of  a  nature  as  broad 
as  the  Atlantic.  He  knows  life  as  it  is,  not 
as  it  is  written  of.  A  true  follower  of  the 
majestic  Christ,  he  takes  his  religion  seri- 
ously, and  as  of  the  seven-days-a-week  kind, 
never  happier  than  when  he  is  serving  some 
one  else.  He  has  impressed  me  always  as  a 
friend  to  tie  to. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DIFFICULTIES  OF  THE 
EX-PRISONER 

I  LEFT  prison  with  the  determination  to 
make  good.  Association  and  correspondence 
with  my  two  friends  had  brought  to  me  the 
full  realization  of  the  folly  of  the  other  life. 
As  the  doors  of  the  prison  closed  after  me, 
and  I  stood  upon  the  threshold  of  the  new 
life,  a  feeling  came  over  me  that  is  difficult 
to  describe  in  mere  words. 

It  was  my  first  glimpse  of  the  outside 
world  in  over  seven  years.  During  that  time 
the  range  of  my  vision  had  been  narrowed 
by  huge  walls  of  stone.  My  eyes  were  un- 
accustomed to  a  broader  landscape.  As  I 
stood  on  the  steps  of  the  prison  for  a 
moment,  breathing  in  the  atmosphere  of  an 
early  June  morning,  the  thought  came  to 
me  that  it  was  a  pretty  good  world  to  live 
in,  after  all. 

104 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     105 

In  the  city  of  my  confinement  an  associa- 
tion devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  dis- 
charged prisoner  kept  a  "home."  In  this 
"home"  the  discharged  prisoner  could  find 
food  and  shelter  until  able  to  procure  work. 
On  the  eventful  morning  of  my  release  from 
prison,  as  I  walked  toward  this  "home,"  my 
whole  being  was  a-tingle  with  the  gladness 
of  the  day.  Here  I  was,  a  free  man  after 
a  confinement  of  weary  years.  Can  you 
imagine  how  happy  I  was?  The  activities 
of  the  city's  streets  bewildered  me.  I  felt 
lost  somehow,  an  atom  as  it  were,  in  the  life 
of  the  big  world.  I  was  struck  by  the  great 
change  in  the  dress  of  women.  All  about 
me  seemed  new.  I  walked,  and  walked,  and 
walked  still  further  until  my  feet  were  blis- 
tered with  walking.  A  peculiarity  of  the 
discharged  prisoner  is  the  fact  that  he  either 
walks  or  talks  until  almost  exhausted,  im- 
mediately upon  his  release. 

In  this  age  of  progress  much  happens  in  a 
space  of  seven  years.  You  must  remember 
that  I  was  as  absolutely  cut  away  from  the 
world  as  if  I  had  been  in  some  distant  planet, 


106         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

receiving  the  news  of  the  world  through  the 
columns  of  an  aerial  press. 

I  stayed  for  about  five  weeks  in  this 
"home."  While  I  found  a  sincere  desire  on 
the  part  of  the  officials  to  make  one  at  home, 
the  place  itself  was  too  much  institutional- 
ized for  them  to  succeed.  That  to  me  is  the 
fault  of  the  "homes"  devoted  to  the  interests 
of  the  discharged  prisoner.  The  man  coming 
out  of  prison  should  be  made  to  forget  such 
a  thing  as  an  institution.  To  step  out  of  a 
place  where  rule  and  routine  are  the  funda- 
mentals, and  enter  again  into  the  same  en- 
vironment under  the  guise  of  a  "home"  is  a 
discouraging  feature  to  the  man  bent  on 
turning  over  a  new  leaf.  Of  course  I  realize 
that  in  such  a  place,  devoted  to  such  a  work, 
certain  rules  and  regulations  are  necessary. 
But  they  should  be  as  few  as  is  consistent 
with  a  proper  maintenance  of  discipline. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  this  "home"  idea,  to 
my  mind  at  least,  is  not  such  a  potent  factor 
in  the  reformation  of  the  prisoner  as  some 
believe  it.  In  the  first  place,  only  a  certain 
type  of  discharged  prisoner  cares  to  enter 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     107 

such  a  home.  No  matter  where  the  home  is 
situated  it  soon  becomes  known  for  what  it 
really  is.  Neighbors  look  upon  the  men 
residing  there  either  pityingly  or  with  con- 
tempt. It  advertises  the  "past"  of  the  man, 
and  no  sensitive  man  desirous  of  regen- 
erating himself,  cares  to  have  the  fact  of 
his  former  delinquency  become  household 
knowledge. 

Another  factor  against  the  "home"  is  this, 
that  it  gathers  together  a  group  of  men  of 
known  criminal  tendencies.  Each  man  is 
making  the  fight  for  himself.  There  come 
moments  of  despondency  and  gloom.  In 
that  moment  a  suggestion  of  another  in  the 
same  frame  of  mind  may  precipitate  the  fall 
of  both.  Instead  of  only  one  falling  there 
may  be  more. 

Folks  will  call  this  a  destructive  criticism, 
yet  I  do  not  .mean  it  so.  In  place  of  the 
"homes"  as  at  present  conducted,  I  would 
place  the  discharged  prisoners  in  private 
homes.  Surely,  there  are  people  big  enough, 
and  with  mind  broad  enough  to  give  the  man 
a  chance?  The  associations  would  find  little 


108         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

trouble  in  finding  such  homes.  Of  course 
I  realize  that  there  is  a  certain  type  of  man 
to  whom  the  "home"  as  at  present  conducted 
is  the  ideal  thing.  But  for  the  majority  I 
would  suggest  my  private-family  idea.  The 
discharged  prisoner  makes  an  almost  hope- 
less fight  for  regeneration  unless  he  has  a 
friend  of  the  Big  Brother  type  to  fall  back 
on  in  times  of  despondency  and  gloom.  In 
the  private  family  he  would  have  the  advice 
and  counsel  of  a  friend.  In  the  environ- 
ment, colored  by  love,  he  would  get  glimpses 
of  the  happiness  to  be  derived  from  an  honest 
life.  All  this  would  be  as  a  spur  to  his  en- 
deavors, for  the  thing  the  prisoner  needs 
most  of  all  is  simply  friendship.  It  must  be 
friendship  that  is  active  and  optimistic,  a 
friendship  that  is  not  discouraged  by  an  oc- 
casional failure.  If  the  ex-prisoner  can  get 
this  on  leaving  prison,  his  chances  for  mak- 
ing good  are  increased  a  hundredfold. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
REFORMATION 

THE  underworld  weaves  about  its  citizens 
a  sort  of  magic  spell.  I  little  thought,  deter- 
mined as  I  was  to  lead  a  different  life,  that  I 
would  ever  again  listen  to  its  call.  But  I 
underestimated  its  influence  over  me.  I  had 
been  out  some  seven  or  eight  weeks  when 
in  company  with  a  "stir"  (prison)  acquaint- 
ance I  took  to  the  road  again.  A  fast  freight 
took  us  away  from  the  city  back  again  to- 
ward the  shadows  of  the  underworld.  I 
stopped  just  short  of  its  boundaries.  We 
lay  the  following  evening  in  the  "jungles" 
(outside  the  city)  waiting  to  continue  our 
journey.  The  train  was  late  in  coming  and 
to  while  away  the  time  I  took  some  letters 
from  my  pocket  and  began  to  read  them. 
They  were  old  letters,  one  from  my  friend 
the  minister,  and  another  from  my  pal  in 

109 


110         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

prison.  They  were  letters  such  as  an  old  and 
true  friend  would  write  to  one  in  trouble. 
They  were  so  proud  of  the  fight  I  was  mak- 
ing; they  knew  that  I  would  succeed  in  my 
endeavor  to  make  good.  They  were  anxious 
for  the  time  when  I  could  once  again  hold 
up  my  head  with  the  rest  of  them.  I  read 
the  letters  and  then  I  re-read  them.  As  I 
did  so  I  realized  the  folly  of  the  course  that 
I  was  taking.  The  call  of  the  road  I  found 
was  not  as  inviting  as  I  had  supposed. 
The  road  itself  lost  its  magic.  The  under- 
world ceased  to  beckon.  I  was  sincerely 
unhappy.  I  saw  the  two  lives  from  the 
right  angle,  and  the  life  of  the  shadows  was 
not  for  me.  I  determined  to  go  back.  To 
show  them,  my  friends,  that  I  was  not  un- 
appreciative  of  their  friendships,  I  resolved 
to  make  the  fight  at  any  cost  and  win  out. 

I  found  a  right  royal  welcome  awaiting 
me.  I  got  back  into  the  fight,  and  while 
meeting  with  occasional  disappointments, 
made  some  progress.  I  have  been  on  the 
outside  now  for  over  two  years,  and  I  can 
say  that  in  that  time  I  have  never  lapsed  in 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     111 

my  endeavors.  I  have  congenial  employ- 
ment, and  am  happy  doing  it.  I  have  met 
the  one  girl,  and  my  friend,  the  minister, 
made  us  one.  I  am  happier  now  than  I  have 
ever  been  before. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
COMPARISONS 

IN  contrasting  my  life  of  the  present  with 
that  of  the  underworld  I  am  struck  by  the 
similar  characters  inhabiting  both.  The  men 
of  the  underworld  are  little  different  from 
those  living  a  legitimate  life.  They  are  pos- 
sessed of  the  same  emotions.  They  work  and 
love  with  the  same  intensity  of  purpose  as 
do  their  brothers  of  the  moral  life.  They 
have  their  ideals  too.  Strip  the  thief  of 
his  propensity  to  steal,  and  you  develop 
a  character  of  genuinely  wholesome  qual- 
ity. The  idea  that  the  denizen  of  the 
underworld  is  a  character  different  from 
the  rest  of  society  is  a  fallacious  one. 
Lombroso,  from  his  scientific  deductions, 
may  tell  you  that  the  criminal  is  one  of  a 
distinct  class,  differentiated  from  the  rest 
of  mankind.  But  I  say  to  you,  out  of  an 
112 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     113 

experience  of  over  seventeen  years,  that  the 
peculiar  conformation  of  an  ear  isn't  neces- 
sarily a  sign  of  criminal  depravity.  I  know 
the  men  of  whom  I  speak.  I  know  their 
strength  and  some  of  their  weaknesses.  I 
know  their  vices  and  some  of  their  virtues. 
In  the  life  of  the  elect  I  have  never  met  an 
angel ;  in  the  underworld  I  have  yet  to  meet 
a  man  absolutely  bad. 

The  great  fact  in  the  formation  of 
criminal  tendencies,  to  my  mind  at  least,  is 
environment.  If  this  is  so,  then  the  society 
is  in  part  responsible  for  the  crime  exist- 
ing. A  vast  number  of  folks  believe  that 
the  criminal  is  born  so.  They  point  to 
the  son  or  daughter  of  criminal  and  vicious 
parents  as  proof  of  their  reasoning.  But 
when  they  do  so  they  forget  the  force  of 
the  environment  surrounding  the  child  from 
its  birth.  That  to  me  is  the  essential  factor. 
I  know  a  son  of  a  thief  who  developed  into  a 
professional  man  of  no  mean  standing. 
Why?  Because  at  an  early  date  he  was 
adopted  into  the  home  of  respectable  and 
honest  folk.  In  this  environment,  colored 


114         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

by  love,  he  developed  those  faculties  which 
afterward  made  him  succeed.  I  can  under- 
stand certain  physical  characteristics  being 
transmitted  to  the  children,  but  for  the  life 
of  me  I  cannot  understand  the  transmission 
of  thought.  And  morality  to  me  is  nothing 
if  not  a  condition  of  the  mind. 

The  factors  partial  to  viciousness  and 
crime  are  many.  There  are  the  great 
economic  factors,  such  as  insufficiency  of 
work  and  lack  of  wage.  Both  are  conducive 
to  poverty  and  mendicancy,  which  in  them- 
selves are  productive  of  an  adverse  environ- 
ment. The  slums  exist  mainly  because  of 
some  error  in  the  economic  laws  of  the  land. 
By  reason  of  the  slums  other  factors  are 
produced,  all  fundamental  in  the  production 
of  crime. 

It  has  been  the  universal  rule  in  making 
up  statistics  of  crime  to  place  drink  as  the 
fundamental  cause  of  most  of  it.  Rather 
than  being  the  great  cause  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  it  is  the  great  excuse  of  the  crim- 
inal world.  Every  man  convicted  of  error 
naturally  endeavors  to  "excuse"  that  error. 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     115 

And  what  better  excuse  or  palliative  is  there 
than  drink  ?  It  has  gotten  to  be  a  habit  with 
some  people  to  look  upon  drink  as  indeed 
an  honest  excuse.  No  one  knows  this  better 
than  the  criminal,  and  in  giving  drink  as  the 
cause  of  his  falling  he  but  follows  the  rule 
of  the  natural  man. 

I  do  not  believe  drink  to  be  that  great 
cause  of  crime  which  it  is  reported  to  be. 
Of  course  all  drinking  men  are  not  criminals, 
yet  neither  are  all  criminals  drinking  men. 
Indirectly,  though,  drink  is  a  big  cause.  The 
environment  of  the  saloon,  rather  than  drink 
itself,  is  what  strikes  me  as  being  the  great 
factor  in  producing  the  criminal.  The 
saloons  exist  by  reason  of  the  permission 
of  the  State,  and  by  reason  of  this  fact  the 
State  stands  responsible  for  a  good  part  of 
the  crime  committed  as  a  result  of  the 
saloon's  influence. 

It  would  be  impossible,  as  it  would  be 
useless  for  me  to  endeavor  to  indicate  all  the 
causes  that  produce  crime.  In  my  mind 
the  center  of  the  evil  is  reached,  and  promis- 
ing work  is  done  when  we  look  toward  a 


116        SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

betterment  of  social  conditions  in  the  slums 
and  poverty-stricken  districts  of  the  city. 
Reforms  made  here  will  soon  make  them- 
selves felt  in  other  areas.  It  is  Utopian  to 
believe  that  crime  will  ever  be  entirely 
obliterated  in  this  life.  Even  believing  this 
as  true,  the  fact  remains  that  by  right 
methods,  and  human  understanding,  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  underworld  can  be 
brought  to  see  the  Light. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  PLEA  FOR  DISCHARGED 
PRISONERS 

I  WOULD  fain,  before  concluding  this 
story,  lay  before  my  readers  the  cause  of 
the  discharged  prisoner.  I  would  ask  the 
world  to  take  him  on  his  promise  once  again. 
If  not  to  forgive,  I  would  ask  that  you 
forget.  The  road  to  regeneration  is  strewn 
with  many  obstacles.  The  man  leaving 
prison  doesn't  know  all  of  the  pitfalls  wait- 
ing for  him.  He  imagines  it  easy  to  break 
away  from  the  old  life  and  start  straight 
again.  But  I  know  better.  I  know  the  pull 
of  the  old  life.  I  know  the  magic  spell  it 
weaves  about  one;  and,  friends,  the  way  is 
hard.  I've  heard  the  call  of  the  road.,  seduc- 
tive with  its  melody.  I  know  how  it  pulls 
and  tugs  at  the  very  heartstrings  of  a  man. 
There's  a  magic  in  the  underworld,  with  its 

117 


118         SEVENTEEN  YEARS 

lights  and  shadows,  hard  to  comprehend. 
There's  a  glamour  in  the  life  like  the  interest 
of  an  old  romance.  I  know  the  fight  ahead 
of  all  the  men  starting  out  on  the  straight 
road,  and  I  would  ask  that  you  in  some  way 
make  it  a  little  easier  for  them.  A  smile 
isn't  much,  an  encouraging  word  goes  a  long 
way.  They  all  help,  they  all  lift  the  man  a 
little  nearer  to  the  summit  of  his  desire.  In 
your  own  way  you  can  be  of  inestimable 
help  in  the  making  of  a  man.  Will  you  do 
your  part? 

Formerly  the  man  behind  the  bars  didn't 
count.  You  locked  him  up  and  threw  away 
the  keys.  When  his  time  was  up  you  sent 
him  out  into  the  world  with  not  a  care  for 
his  future.  Why  should  you  care?  Why 
woriy  of  the  road  the  convict  took?  The 
law  was  vindicated  in  his  punishment.  The 
law  would  be  waiting  his  next  criminal  act. 
But  all  this  was  some  time  ago.  Now  a 
new  order  of  things  is  come  to  your  keeping. 
Across  the  nation  an  era  of  good  will  toward 
the  prisoner  is  sweeping.  Understanding 
of  his  position  is  rapidly  being  brought 


IN  THE  UNDERWORLD     119 

about.  People  are  more  and  more  willing 
to  give  him  a  chance.  Eager  hands  are  out- 
stretched, ready  to  help  him  over  the  rough 
places  of  the  road.  Big  minds  are  taking 
hold  of  the  problem.  A  spirit  of  true  reli- 
gion is  being  incorporated  into  the  methods 
of  the  social  worker.  But,  best  of  all,  wait- 
ing for  the  man  desirous  of  turning  his  back 
on  the  past,  is  the  glad  hand  of  true 
brotherhood. 


— 

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